


Hearts and Horns

by Faembrosia



Category: Game Grumps
Genre: Angst, Attempted Kidnapping, Attempted Murder, F/M, Horror, M/M, Mild Sexual Content, Possessive Behavior, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-31
Updated: 2015-11-05
Packaged: 2018-04-18 07:45:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 15
Words: 37,679
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4697939
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Faembrosia/pseuds/Faembrosia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Coraline AU" <br/>Arin accidentally stumbles into a different world ruled by a demon obsessed with soul-collecting and a shadow figure eager to steal his heart.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Well

Arin sat in the back of the taxi, knees nearly pressed to the back fabric of the passenger’s seat, as he looked up to the cabin looming atop the grassy knoll. The cab smelled, like stale smoke and resting dust, a relic of yesteryear left to age, neglected. He thought he would have gotten used to the smell after a while, but he was wrong. He wouldn’t be half surprised if that smell followed him for the week he was meant to stay here.

“Hey, I don’t have all day, pal,” the driver barked, snapping Arin from his thoughts. “You getting out or what?”

Arin bit into the corner of his mouth to stunt the remark he felt building on the tip of his tongue. Why waste any more of the cabby’s precious time? Gripping tight to the leather satchel sat caringly on his lap, Arin opened the door and slid out from his seat. The air was brisk and cool. The scent of sap and pine needles banished quick the weathered stench of the taxi. He relished the fresh flow of autumn air, allowing it to fill him and soothe him.

He meant to lean in and thank the cabby, he did, but just as his hand left the paint-peeling metal of the door, dirt and gravel sputtered beneath the tires and the taxi was gone.

Good thing he didn’t put anything in the trunk—wait, did he?

It didn’t matter now, Arin thought as he shifted the satchel on his shoulder. He had everything he needed right here.

As he tread the trail up to the waiting woodwork door of the cabin, Arin’s thoughts turned back to the moments before his best friend shoved him into the depths of the cabby’s cage and shipped him off like a package to the remote retreat of this mountain escape.

Things had been difficult at home—well, the place he once called home.

He knew Barry meant well, of course he did, he was his best friend, but—

Arin’s eyes trailed over the extent of the cabin as he hesitated at the door.

How was hiding from the world supposed to solve anything?

“Look,” Barry had told him as the cab pulled up in front of the apartment complex. “Just take some time off. Focus on you, Arin. You haven’t been doing that lately and I’m starting to worry.”

“Dude, I’ll be fine,” Arin returned in a huff. “Work is the only thing I have going for me, all right? It… keeps my mind busy.”

Barry gave him that knowing look. Man, he hated that look.

“All I’m saying is that it’d be good for you to just kinda… withdraw from all of this. I know things haven’t been easy since…”

“—Barry,” Arin warned.

“—all right, all right, just… we’re still waiting to hear if a company wants to take us on and give us a show. Let me worry about all the details. Take a vacation, work on your writing—your art—whatever. There are beautiful trails and woodland critters and all sorts of magical wonder. I just,” Barry paused to sigh. “I just want you to be happy, Arin. Like you used to be.”

As Arin thought back on that conversation he had with Barry, he felt his chest puff out with a deep breath.

Happy.

He had almost forgotten what that was.

Shifting his bag, Arin opened the cabin door and stepped inside.

 

***

  
There was electricity and running water, Arin could be happy for that.

He tried not to count the spider webs strung between rafters or the layer of dust coating the shelves and cabinets. If anything, this place looked like how Arin felt. Empty, dormant, waiting for the day that it could possibly return to the state it once had been in. What a dismal thought, Arin mused as he flopped down his satchel on the cushions of the sofa.

This place was rustic and quaint, much different from the apartment and offices he was used to frequenting in Los Angeles. He felt a world away from home and the thought of it made his chest weigh with anxiety.

Barry told him he’d visit in a week. There was a cab service and a town near the base of the mountain that he could meander around and get groceries. Besides, there were neighbors, right? Maybe he could meet someone new—make friends. He could use the company.

With a curious wander, Arin moseyed through the extent of the house. There were a few bedrooms, though two were dedicated to storage. There was a fully-functioning bathroom and kitchen. Well, nix a dishwasher or utility room for clothes, but—glass half-full, right?

It was still bright out; he had a few hours until dusk. Arin could spend the majority of his night cleaning the inside of the Kramer family cabin, or he could step out and get that fresh mountain air he heard so much about. With a quick snatch of his satchel, Arin slipped back outside.

 

***

  
The trails were winding as they wove their way through the woodland bed. Glimpses of golden rays peeked through the canopy casting down in scattered curtains to illuminate the translucent skin of brittle leaves. Limbs crunched beneath the soles of Arin’s shoes now dampened by dew. It was peaceful here and worlds away from the busy, industrial life of the big city. For a time, Arin stopped at the rocky rubble littering a cliff’s edge as he took in the beauty of the mountainscape in all its rolling edges of gold and brown.

Maybe Barry was right to send him out here.

On an alcove of moss and rock, Arin sat down and pulled out the weight of his sketchbook from the depths of his satchel. His fingers dove blindly into the folds, searching for the pink, mechanical pencil that he had become rather fond of.

He just needed to clear his head, to drown out all the noise between his ears.

He was never one for drawing landscapes, but maybe he should try.

Flickering back and forth, from paper to nature, Arin’s eyes directed his hand to sketch out the line of mountains far beyond the cliff’s edge. The sun had just begun its descent, bringing a plethora of colors to parade across the autumn sky. When he drew, his brain shut down, he reacted out of instinct. There were no worries left to pester him endlessly. There was no anxious wonderings gnawing at the last bit of sanity he had left. There was only the pencil and the paper.

There was only peace.

When Arin had drawn the majority of the scene before him, he sat back on the alcove and let his thoughts resume. There was so much waiting for him back in the city, so many things to face and change—things he wasn’t ready to change.  
Arin twirled the silver band on his ring finger.

He hoped when Barry arrived to the cabin at the end of the week, he would come bearing good news. For a few years, they tried to establish their YouTube channel and gather an audience, but their efforts were made in vain. Only recently, they had thoughts of starring in skits and doing all sorts of odd jobs just to warrant the stardom they craved. That was what Barry was doing in Arin’s absence—scheduling meetings, recording sessions, anything and everything it took to make their dreams come true.

He guessed now wasn’t the time to worry about all that.

Arin glanced up to the sky now stained by a cloud of magenta and dark puce. He should head back now before it got too dark. The thought of traversing these chaotic trails in the dark only worsened the anxiety building in his stomach.

With his things collected, Arin started off down the trail he took to the cliff’s edge. Carefully, he stepped over fallen limbs and logs. As he crossed over the bark of a tree fallen over a creek, Arin began to feel the cool breeze shift its way through the trees and prickle against his skin. He should have grabbed a jacket from the cabin. With the weather worsening as fast as it had these few weeks prior, he should have known the chance of rainfall or wind would be great up in the mountains.

There was nothing he could do about that now, he lamented with a groan. The sooner he got back to the cabin, the better—but…

Arin stopped and peered down the paths.

Which way had he come?

He swallowed down the lump building in his throat as he eyed the trails branching out before him. All these paths looked familiar—the trees, the fauna, the limbs and logs—but which way had he taken to come this far into the forest?

“Fuck me,” Arin breathed as he moved onward with a hesitant step.

Just fucking typical, he thought. He got ahead of himself; he was curious and stupid and didn’t even bother to think of what may happen if he got lost. Maybe all these trails just branched back to the main clearing? They did that a lot in parks, didn’t they?

Except this wasn’t a park. This was a mountain.

Arin’s tongue flickered out to dampen the creases of his lips as he took a moment to think. He had to make a decision, he couldn’t very well just stand here all night.

“… let’s try… the one on the right,” he huffed to himself.

He started off, confident. So long as he followed the trails, he’d make it back to someplace familiar. And—if it got dark—he was certain that all the lights from the cabins and town below would give him an idea where he was at.

Plus, he still had his phone.

Arin continued. He hunched to escape the leaves of branches and gripped tight to crooked trunks as he stamped down a slope. His once confident stride slowed as he felt the pins of regret poke at his skin. No, none of this seemed right.

It was beginning to darken now. No more shattered shards of daylight crept through the canopies, no more birds chirped, no more life and light, just darkness.

Sweat began to build against Arin’s jaw. He should have been back to the cabin by now, he was sure of it.

A break came through the trees as a roll of grass bent and swayed beneath the approach of a nightly breeze. It was a fresh sight to see a clearing. Perhaps it was just a ways down the mountain from the cabins. If he continued on, maybe he could see something familiar.

The stalks of grass grew denser and stretched out from their earthly graves to push at Arin’s thighs, to hold him back, he thought as he struggled to move onward. He was close, he knew it, he had to be.

Just then, he caught sight of something dark jutting out from the grass. His eyes narrowed as he approached it. The grass began to wither and fade. He moved easier now, but became wary as he approached the barren center of the clearing where an old well sat.

The bricks were dark and grey, crumbling from disuse or age, Arin couldn’t decide which. At the base of the well, circling its entirety, were rings of mushrooms sprouting through the dirt to bloom with thick, dark caps. A viscous slime coated them, causing them to shimmer when Arin took out his phone to use it as a flashlight.

“Fucking creepy,” Arin breathed as he stepped closer.

There was something beautiful about what he saw, though disturbing as it was. The ruined and rotting wooden planks of the well’s cover were stripped of color and faded by time.  As he thought of it, there was nothing colorful about this barren circle he entered. The grass was dying, the dirt was dried and cracking—the mushrooms and the well both shared the same dull grey with black speckled growth lining their creases. It was macabre, but alluring.

Arin thumbed through the apps on his phone until he found the camera.

He needed a picture of this, to remember it as he saw it now.

Before he could take a photo, something strange happened. The phone’s battery life swiftly drained, but he didn’t know how. Arin’s brow knitted curiously above his eyes as he drew back the phone to watch as it powered down. A picture of a red battery flickered over the screen before fading to black.  

He stared at his reflection against the dark screen for a time as he sorted through his thoughts. It was only because of this that he was able to watch as his expression changed from one of curiosity to fright as he heard a voice echoing from the depths of the well.

Arin’s eyes lifted, gaping, as he watched the dark maw of the crumbling spring where a voice sang sweetly beneath the weight of reverberations.

He took a step closer, and then another.

It was a male voice, he was sure of it. Singing. Beautiful singing.

Trembling fingers touched down against the cool, rigid stone. His body hunched as he leaned forward and peered down into the bottomless void of black.

Rock scraped, growled, and shook beneath Arin’s weight. Stone crumbled, bricks tumbled. Before Arin realized what was happening, he became weightless and spinning as down, down, down into the well’s mouth he fell.


	2. New Arrival

As Arin fell further and further into the darkness, all he could see was a faint light spinning around him, growing more distant with each revolution. A scream rose through his throat, much like how his stomach churned and flipped with sickness rising. His thoughts were awful and bent as he imagined horrific sights of his head struck hard against crumbled stone. Bones broke, blood seeped through tufts of hair, dizziness, death. His body would be lost in the cramped confines of a well where no one would ever find him. 

Before anxiety could unravel him any further, his body slowed and lurched. The pinpoint of light, once dim and distant, grew closer and closer. Like a lashing tongue, he shot out from the maw of the well and struck hard against dirt and grass. The breath was swept from his chest at collision with the ground, leaving him gasping. He shuffled and scampered away from the well, watching it fearfully as if it could open wide its jaws and swallow him once more. 

“W-what… the… f-fuck,” Arin struggled in panting breath.

His throat was raw from screams, his voice low and weak.

Confusion swam between his ears as he pushed himself up to stand on shaking legs. What just happened? How did that happen? His brow lowered over his eyes as he spun around and searched for answers, but found that there were none. Arin smoothed out his clothes and dusted off cobwebs and grime from his shirt as he decided he had quite enough of the forest for one day. He needed to get back to his cabin. 

With a bracing breath, to calm him and steady his racing thoughts, Arin clutched at the strap of his satchel and quickly fled the barren ring surrounding the well to follow the trails once more through the timber. 

The light here was scarce as night had set in. Only by the glow of the moon hanging high in the rolls of the indigo sky was Arin able to see where he was going—if you could even call it that. His cautious gaze narrowed and flickered up and then down to make sure he didn’t blindly tread atop sinkholes or walk face first into webs housing hungry spiders. This was unbelievable. He could only imagine the chastising glare of parental Barry once he found out about this. He’d never let him live it down. Lost in the woods, typical Hanson. 

Arin’s anxiety no longer remained contained in his stomach as it now branched out to tighten his chest and linger at the back of his tongue. He had to find something soon. A cabin, a ranger station, something. 

The trees gave way once more to another clearing, and this time, Arin would be more cautious. His fingers pushed aside leafless branches as he stepped out to peer across the entirety of the glade. 

Suddenly, he stopped. 

Jutting like teeth from the cracked and dark gums of dirt Arin now stilled upon were colossal, cobbled ruins. They almost looked like castles left to decay across the span of the vale that lay out before Arin, but from the corrosion of stone, it was difficult to tell what they were. Forward, Arin crept, eyes up and gaping at the towering masterworks slumbering in their graves. Once more, the grass retreated the further Arin walked leaving him to once more travel across a stretch of barren land. The only sound he heard was the crunch of dirt beneath his feet. There were no night-fliers circling the stars, no deer grazing near the grass, no bats or rats or… anything. 

Silence, as thick as the dark and twice as heavy, surrounded him. 

Arin tried to calm himself. He didn’t like this. This wasn’t right, something wasn’t right about this place. It was difficult for him to stunt his curiosity to seek out the unknown in the ruins, but he managed to do it. He just needed to keep walking. He just needed to get back to the cabin. 

Gripping tight to the smallest shred of courage he had, Arin continued forward. 

He didn’t know what were in these stone remains. He didn’t know if there was anything there to find, but he didn’t care, not right now. As far as he knew, there was nothing resting in the rubble and he was alone. 

Except, he wasn’t. 

 

***

 

Beneath the curtain of silver light wept from the moon above, he paced across the tops of shattered columns with his attention fixated on what lurked below. Between his long fingernails, he caressed the cool, crimson stone hanging from one of his necklaces which gleamed with a light of its own, pulsing and breathing like the hearts he craved. No matter which way he walked, the black depths of his eyes ever followed the man stalking through the ruins, searching, terrified.

He could taste the build of fear on the tip of his tongue; it had been a while since he had one so fearful. 

A nip of cold breathed against the skin of his arm, prickling his hair and filling him with forced fright, but such things could not affect him. 

His attention turned for a moment to watch as coils of black smoke seeped through the cracks of the columns, rising and slithering to wrap around his body in an affectionate embrace. The corners of his lips curled as he drew a hand through the smoke. 

“We have a new arrival,” he told his dearest companion. “Make him feel at home.” 

An airy laugh rumbled through the smoke before it lowered down to the creases of stone and departed. 

His eyes returned to Arin as the crimson stone on his necklace began to pulse quicker. 

Delight bubbled in him, rising to release in a laugh as excitement gripped him.

“Let the games begin, sweetheart.”


	3. The Wolf and Warden

Arin’s hair became weighted by sweat as he trekked further past the ruins scattering the clearing. His leg muscles were taut with a dull burning pain, but he knew he could not stop. The only thought that kept him going was the decorative woodwork door of the Kramer cabin and the hot shower he could have once he found it. God, he just wanted to rest, if even for a moment. His muscles hurt, his stomach rumbled with angry hunger, he was tired, he was frustrated, and he just wanted to be home. 

Before the weary reveries of faraway longing could lull him into a state of despair, he heard the shifting and falling of crumbling rocks, causing him to still. His heart began to pound as he strained his eyes to see through the dancing shades and moonlight. 

“Hello?” he called, though fearful to do so. “Is… someone there?” 

Breaths forced out through his parted lips as he anticipated a response. He just wanted to hear a voice, anything, to know he wasn’t alone. 

He approached the sound he heard. Though his feet dragged, slow and heavy, he persisted. Sweat built on his neck, rolling down to cling against the weight of his shirt. The late night breeze brought him to shiver, but it was a welcome reprieve for the heat of exhaustion that wrought him here in this desolate, woodland graveyard. 

“Please,” he nearly begged as he heard again the sound of shifting rocks. Warily, he approached its source. “Don’t hide from me.”

Mid-stride, Arin froze, as through the ruins stalked a creature large and fearsome. Its fur was long and matted, blacker than oil. Many teeth, jagged and gleaming with saliva left dripping, cramped the contents of its mouth as it snarled and sneered. 

All feelings and thoughts left through Arin’s lips in a shallow breath as he stood petrified before the approach of a monstrous, black wolf. 

His hands began to tremble as waves of fear and horror washed over him and stole the color of exertion from his face. Darkness overcame his vision as his mind lost its strength to stream the length of Arin’s fears and his body now entered the state of fight or flight.

The wolf neared. Its eyes, shining, ghostly, silver, never strayed. 

At the sound of rubble crunching beneath the massive paws of the wolf, something in Arin snapped. 

He ran. 

 

***

 

With heart pounding, blood racing, thoughts flashing warning lights, Arin ran. His body became drenched in sweat, he gulped breaths, felt tears building, heard the thunder of paws tearing against the dirt behind him, snarls nearing, but he ran. He dove through the cover of trees no longer fearing the unknown that lingered in the dark as the height of his fears chased behind him with hot breaths panted through needle-like fangs. Branches slashed against his face, splitting skin, drawing blood. The salt of sweat burned against his cuts, but he ran. He wove through the labyrinth of woodland giants and scaled slopes with reckless abandon. He would rather fall to his death, body broken and bloodied on jagged rocks below, than learn how it feels to have skin and bone ripped from him piece by piece. 

Frightened tears blinded his eyes to the scatter of moonlight through the canopy. He didn’t know which way he ran, how far he went into the woods, but he didn’t stop—he couldn’t, not now. 

An uncovered root caught his foot. His weight plummeted and twisted down a slope causing fallen leaves to churn and cling against his skin left glistening in sweat. Pain seized at his muscles, but he had to push on, he couldn’t give up. 

Clawing against the forest bed, Arin forced himself to crawl onward. His chest heaved moaning breaths as his heart rose to pound against the base of his tongue.

He heard the snap of limbs come from behind. 

The wolf was upon him. 

But, suddenly, illumination.

The flickering warmth of a golden light breathed down to banish the darkness shrouding Arin. His brow pinched together as he twisted himself to sit up and gape at the approach of something new— _someone_ new. 

The stranger held a lantern tight in his hand and lifted it high to cast the sketch of shadows across the curves of his face. He wore the heavy, black leather of a furred bomber jacket and beneath its weight was a uniform and golden badge pinned above his heart. A ranger. If Arin could dispel the tears blurring his eyes, he might have been able to make out the name etched across the face of the badge.

“Are you all right?” the ranger rumbled in a deep voice as he lowered beside Arin. “Are you hurt?”

Arin’s breaths still panted as he gaped at the stranger, speechless. 

“Can you stand?” he pressed as he sat down the weight of his lantern. 

“Y-yeah,” Arin forced out his voice in a whisper. His eyes flickered past the stranger’s shoulder as he peered into the darkness, afraid. “T-there’s a… wolf. A… a _fucking_ huge, black wolf—it’s coming. I-It followed me. We need to go. Now.”

The ranger glanced back into the veil of night behind him before returning his gaze to Arin to speak with composure. “Just stay calm. I’ll get you out of here.” 

Their hands clasped and, with a heave, Arin was brought up to stand. 

The ranger lowered swift and grabbed the weight of his lantern. “This way, follow me.”

Arin’s head nodded. 

“H-how did you… find me?” he asked as he kept a quick pace behind the ranger. 

He glanced back at Arin with a faint smile pulling at the corner of his mouth. “I followed the sound of running. It’s not difficult finding someone in these woods, if you know where to look.”

“Do you… live out here?” 

“For the time being. I’m a game warden for the state, a wildlife officer, if you will. This has been my territory for quite a while. Lucky for you, I got restless at home and decided to start a patrol. You shouldn’t be out here so late at night, you know. It’s dangerous to wander alone.” 

Arin felt his face flush with color as he chased the golden gleams of the lantern light. “I-I’m… sorry, officer.” 

“Nothing to be sorry about,” the warden answered. “We’re nearly to my cabin now… uh… you have a name I can call you, or would you like me to come up with something witty on my own?”

Arin breathed a laugh. “I’m Arin. Arin Hanson, sir.”

“Well, Arin, it’s a pleasure to meet you, though the circumstances aren’t exactly ideal,” the warden said before casting a glance over his shoulder with that same crooked smile. “And… there’s no need for formality. You may call me Mark.”


	4. A Cabin in the Woods

The underbrush and briers were terrifying in the thick shroud of night and silence, but led on by Mark and his golden lantern, Arin felt safer. Even now he still felt the grip of trepidation cling to his heartstrings as his thoughts lingered on the matted, black fur and silver eyes of the giant, feral wolf.  There was a time or two when the hair on Arin’s arms stood on end as he heard—or at least, thought he heard—the sound of a bellowing howl echo through the twisted spines of hallow trees. His breath caught on his tongue, held tight and silent, as he tried to cast away the fears building against the creases of his mind. 

“You don’t need to be afraid,” Mark called from the trail ahead. “So long as we stay together, you’ll be safe.” 

“How do you know?” Arin asked as he struggled to stay within the lantern’s flickering aura. “You didn’t see that wolf, man. It was… a monster.” 

“Monster?” Mark echoed with a laugh as he stopped to glance back at Arin, lantern held high. “What makes you say that?” 

“Well, for starters, that thing was nearly three times my size and could quite possibly swallow me whole if it wanted to—” at this, Mark laughed, “—second, you didn’t see the look in its eyes. It was _hungry_. A big, black, terrifying, hungry monster.”

“Afraid of the big, bad wolf, Hanson?” Mark rumbled as he held back a branch to allow Arin to walk safely through the grove. 

“Something like that, sure.” Arin sighed. “I’m just glad you showed up when you did. You saw it, didn’t you? You must have.”

“Just you and me out here as far as I’ve seen.” Mark smiled. “Like I said, so long as we’re together, nothing is going to happen to you.” 

Arin hoped he was right. 

After a while of traversing deeper into the woods, Arin stamped up the side of a hill to see behind its reach the spread of a cabin. A breath of relief left him as he swiftly followed after Mark. 

“Home sweet home,” Mark said as they walked up the stairs to the ivy-ridden porch of the cabin. 

As Mark opened the door, Arin cast back a wary glance to the forest behind them. He still waited to see the shine of silver eyes peeking through the darkness, but such a time never came.

“It’s not much to look at,” Mark called to him as he slipped into the dark of the cabin, “but it has the essentials. I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but my patrol car is parked just down the hill. If you really did see a wolf in the area, it’d probably be best to hold out here for the night. I can take you back to your cabin in the morning.”

Arin shuffled through the darkness of the cabin, his eyes fast to the swinging lantern. “Thanks, man. You don’t have to let me stay here.”

“Don’t mention it,” Mark answered as he stooped down to the fireplace and shifted logs against the hearth. “I’d feel a lot better knowing you’re here and safe than off wandering through the woods again. It’s basically my civil duty to protect civilians in these mountains—which you so happen to fall under.” 

“You sure know how to make a man feel wanted,” Arin said in a scoff as he neared the fireplace, eager to feel its warmth. 

“Well, let me set the mood first and I’ll see if I can’t do better,” Mark joked before striking a match to the tinder. 

After a few attempts, a breath of a flame took to the fireplace and soon a fire, roaring, blazed against the ashen cobblestone. Mark sat back before the fireplace and shimmied from his shoulders the weight of his black, leather jacket. Behind him, Arin found comfort on the cushions and quilts of a couch. Finally able to relax himself, Arin’s shoulders slumped and he began to feel the weight of his ache throb through his muscles. He felt exhausted, like he could pass out at any second, but he wanted to stay awake.

A shadow passed over Arin bringing him to look up to see Mark kneeling down between his legs. 

“Hold still,” Mark rumbled as he held up a cotton swab. “You’re bleeding a bit.” 

Heat washed over Arin’s face as Mark leaned closer to dab the cotton against the scratches on his face. As the alcohol kissed the cuts on his cheeks, Arin winced and drew back. 

“I’m sorry,” Mark whispered. “I’m nearly done.”

“I-it’s fine, I’m… I’m fine.” 

Arin closed his eyes and bit into his lips to steady himself. Mark’s hand was gentle, it was, but he wasn’t ready for it. As Mark withdrew, Arin opened his eyes to see the subtle curl of Mark’s smile. 

“You’re blushing, you know,” Mark pointed out, much to Arin’s horror. 

“What?” Arin laughed before lifting a hand to smooth back the lengths of his hair. “I’m just… still pretty hot over running for my life.”

“Really? And I thought it was from being so close to an attractive and young officer.”

“You’re just eating this up, aren’t you?” Arin huffed as he watched Mark push himself up to stand. 

“It gets lonely out here, what can I say? You’re the first bit of company I’ve had in a long time. Gotta poke my fun while I can.” Mark walked toward an open door. “You must be thirsty. I think I’ve got some cocoa laying around. Marshmallows, too, if you want some.”

“That sounds wonderful,” Arin called. “Thank you.”

While Mark prepared their drinks, Arin gave a glance about the cabin. Instead of floral decorations gracing the walls there hung mounted antlers and shelves lined with various herbs and books regarding forest fauna and wildlife. There was something soothing about seeing such naturalistic furnishings in this rustic setting. Cabins and woods were far from any childhood reverie Arin had, but he enjoyed the sights and smells enough that he nearly forgot how terrified he was out in the woods. 

Soon, Mark returned with two mugs filled to the brim with steaming cocoa and marshmallows. As he offered down one of the mugs, he gave fair warning, “It’s hot, so be careful.”

Arin smiled in thanks before accepting the mug and holding it tightly on his lap. The ceramic burned against his hands, but he enjoyed the heat he surely lacked throughout the events of the night he spent wandering through the forest.

“I see you’re wearing a ring,” Mark pointed out before taking a seat on the flannel cushions of an armchair. “Are you married, Arin?”

Arin felt his heart leap up into his throat.

“I… _was_ ,” he replied before turning his attention down to the marshmallows bathing in the foam of his cocoa. “We actually just… split up. It’s why I came up here. To get my mind off everything, you know?”

When Arin flickered up his gaze to peek at Mark, the warden was holding a solemn frown.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked.”

“No, don’t be, it’s fine. Not like it changes much to lie.” 

“Do you… want to talk about it?” 

“What’s there to say?” Arin asked with a roll of his shoulders. “We just grew apart, I guess. She said I focused too much on work. She was right. I just felt like I was so close to finally accomplishing my dreams. I was supposed to make everything better, but,” Arin tightened his hold on the mug. “I just made everything worse. And now she’s gone.”

“I wish there was something I could say to make you feel better,” Mark said, careful and low. “I know how hard it is to lose something you thought you’d always have. I know we’ve only known each other for an hour or so, but, if you need someone to talk to, I’m more than happy to be here for you.” 

The corner of Arin’s lips tugged into a soft smile. “You just don’t want to be alone on the mountain.”

Mark shrugged. “I have my own agenda, of course, but… I can also be a human sometimes and care about others.” 

Arin laughed, weak and soft, but a laugh nonetheless. “Thank you. For everything. For finding me and letting me stay for the night. I… didn’t expect to come up here and find anything of value, but I’m glad I met you.” 

“I’ll always be here. There are a few other people on this mountain who you should meet, but if you ever need to get away or need someone to talk to, I’ll be here. I’m glad I found you Arin, I really am. I guess, for the moment, you should get your rest. You had a busy day.” 

Mark stood up from the armchair and collected a flannel blanket and pillow before setting them up against the stretch of the couch for Arin’s use.

“If you need anything else, just let me know,” Mark said with a soft smile. 

“Thank you, Mark,” Arin returned, unable to suppress his own smile. 

“Glad I could be of service, Mr. Hanson.” Mark bowed. “Goodnight, Arin. If you need me, I’ll be in the bedroom down the hall.”

With that, Mark collected his mug of cocoa and disappeared down the hall. 

Arin kicked off his shoes before settling down into the cushions of the couch. He smelled the faint scent of incense clinging to the blanket he now pulled over him. Sandalwood, he decided. It was a fitting scent for the game warden. Musky and natural, much like Mark’s home. Before long, Arin found himself fading, his eyes growing heavy. 

He wished he could have stayed awake with Mark a while longer. He enjoyed listening to the velvety roll of his voice. It was soothing and deep, like a song lulling him to find his peace. 

Maybe he could see him again, he would like that. 

Arin fell asleep. 

 

***

 

The fire once gracing the cobblestone of the hearth faded as it returned to a resting state. The whole of the cabin was quiet and warm as darkness set in. The only illumination came through the eyes of the windows that wept in the silver gleam of moonlight to bask the armchair and couch in the center of the room. As Arin rested, deep and peaceful in a slumber, the door leading out to the forest beyond the warmth of the cabin slowly creaked open. 

Shadows crept into the room much like the sound of footsteps of the unwelcome visitor. 

Cold replaced the heat, bringing Arin’s breaths to turn misty and white as he shivered beneath the cover of a flannel blanket. 

A figure approached and drew around the couch, its eyes never straying from the man sleeping undisturbed, alone. 

A hand fell, dark and cold, to brush away the pale highlight that ran like a streak through Arin’s hair. 

The man shivered beneath his touch, the sound of a gasp from his lips was beautiful.

Hesitantly, Dan lowered beside the couch. 

There was something about this newcomer, something different and unique. He wasn’t like the others, oh no, not like them at all. Like a veil, Dan could see the sadness covering Arin. He could sense it, taste it. It was beautiful and sweet and sad. 

The pinpoint of pale light emitting from the gaping darkness of Dan’s eyes flickered down to the weight of a satchel sitting on the floor. With a careful hand, he opened its flap and drew out the weight of a book. He stood and wandered about the cabin room as he flipped through the pages and admired what he saw. 

This new arrival was a creator, much like him. 

A breath filled Dan’s chest before he closed the book and returned his attention to Arin.

“I don’t know what it is about you,” Dan whispered as he knelt once more at the side of the couch. “It’s been so long since I’ve had someone new. Someone to spoil and love. Wouldn’t that be nice, my dear? Wouldn’t it be wonderful to create things together?” 

Dan drew his fingers down the curve of Arin’s cheek, bringing him to shiver in the throes of his dreams. 

“You’ll be mine, I know you will. I’ll show you. Just you see.” 

Dan lowered and pressed his black lips against Arin’s brow.

“Sweet dreams… Arin.”


	5. The Town

The warmth of sunlight stirred Arin from his deep, dreamless sleep.

Beneath the weight of a blanket, he was just a mess of stretched and tangled limbs. He felt heavy, with exhaustion and ache, maybe even idiocy, as he now just began to recall the events of the previous night. Arin thought of the forest, wild and dark, and the creature that lurked between the hollow carcasses of the barren timber.

He winced and shifted, ignoring the twinge of pain still burning his calves and thighs from his nightly exertions. He couldn’t think of all that now, the wolf, the woods, and the well. There was no use of it as his mind fell unraveled as his temples throbbed with a growing headache. He just wanted to sleep, possibly forever if that’s what it took to get rid of all this pain. His tongue was dry as he swallowed. A hint of cocoa grazed the roof of his mouth bringing him to furrow his brow. 

Cocoa?

Suddenly, his eyes gaped wide as he sat up quick. 

Arin blinked against the harsh sunlight glaring through the windows at him as he searched the room for a certain badge-wearing, smile-curling, dark-headed wildlife officer, but he wasn’t here. Much to Arin’s surprise—or perhaps it was horror—he no longer lay across the couch of the game warden’s cabin, but the borrowed bed of the Kramer lodge. 

Arin stilled.

He looked left and then he looked right. 

He was… back? But, how?

With a groan and an aching back, Arin rolled out from under the covers of the mattress and wobbly stood at the bedside. 

This didn’t make any sense. How did he get back here? How could he? He didn’t… dream all of that, did he? 

Arin lifted a hand to rub at the sleep blurring his eyes. He felt so heavy, but something more than that, though he couldn’t find the word. He felt washed, squeezed—no, that wasn’t it. He felt… drained, zapped of energy and thought, like something ate away at him as he slept, bit by bit. He could blame it on running through the woods like a madman, but, right now, he wasn’t so sure that even happened. 

Stumbling and weary, Arin struggled to find his way to the bathroom. He needed a hot shower and an even hotter breakfast. Maybe some coffee to snap himself out of this funk he found himself in. Just as he grabbed at the base of his shirt to work it over his head, Arin’s eyes caught a glimpse of something hanging on the bathroom mirror. 

He neared. 

It was a piece of paper holding the jagged scratches of pencil marks. 

A letter. 

_Hanson,_

_I was sure you were awake this morning, but seeing as you passed out the second we walked through your cabin door, I’m going to guess you’re a pretty convincing sleep-walker. Thanks for keeping me company last night. I hope I get to see you around the mountain more often. Next time, though, stay away from hungry wolves.  
_

_Officer Mark F._

Arin snorted a laugh. Well, it looked like his sanity was still intact. 

Just before he lowered the letter, he saw a postscript. 

_P.S If you feel the need to congratulate me on rescuing you, you could always take me out to dinner. I prefer Italian. Oh, and I left your necklace on the kitchen counter._

“Cocky bastard,” Arin mumbled to himself. 

But wait, what was that last bit?

“My necklace?” Arin echoed the words scratched against the paper.   

With letter in hand, he moseyed through the length of the cabin, rereading the words of the game warden and admiring the swirls of a signature near the bottom. The cold of the floorboards worked its way through Arin’s socks making him shiver. This was definitely going to be a cold autumn, he just knew it. As Arin entered the kitchen, he gave a glance about the counters. He saw decorative mason jars and honey pots and—

Arin stepped nearer to a countertop to examine closer the extent of a necklace that lay across the counter. At the end of its chain was a single, rich ruby. 

With careful fingers, he plucked it from its resting place and lifted it to look upon. The glimpses of sunlight fractured well through the crimson colors swirling in the gem’s depths. It was almost mesmerizing to look at, but Arin quickly returned his attention to the letter.

This necklace didn’t belong to him, he was sure of it. He couldn’t remember the last time he even wore a necklace—probably something Suzy bought him for a cosplay, but still. With letter and necklace in hand, Arin made his way back to the bathroom. He placed down the two unfamiliar items on the sink and shed himself of his dirty clothes.

As he spun the knobs of the shower, steam billowed out from the shower curtain and soon basked the room in a layer of weighted heat. Arin ran his fingers through the length of his hair, smoothing down the dark strands to lay tamed against the curve of his skin. With a curious thought, he bit into the corner of his cheek.

That necklace did seem… familiar, but… Arin couldn’t recall where it was he saw it from. Maybe it was something belonging to the Kramer family that just so happened to fall into his bag when he was off daydreaming. Maybe Mark found it out in the forest and just assumed it was his? 

He wasn’t sure. 

As Arin stepped out from the dip of the shower tub, he looked down once more to the necklace. The sleep once burdening him burdened no more as he examined the necklace with a clear and conscious mind. It was a beautiful piece of jewelry. Maybe if Arin saw Mark again, he would give back the necklace and explain that it was some sort of misunderstanding. Would he see Mark again?   
Arin shifted his eyes back to the letter and pursed his lips to stunt the growing smile. 

The mountain might be big, but Arin always had the habit of stumbling into trouble. He was certain he’d see again the stupid, handsome face of the cocky, and mildly inappropriate, game warden. 

Unable to bear the cold beginning to work over his damp skin, Arin slid on the weight of the necklace before going to the bedroom to change. 

 

***

 

He was lucky Barry left quite a bit of clothes around as it appeared he had forgotten the majority of his luggage in the trunk of the taxi. How great. 

Barry was a bit smaller than Arin, but luckily, he was able to fit into the clothes he found. Sure, they were snug and every time he breathed he felt like he would Hulk out… but, they’d do. Arin walked out to the kitchen and scrounged through the shelves only to find dust bunnies and cobwebs. 

With a huff and a slump, he glanced down to the weight of his wallet sitting on the counter. 

Guess it was time to see what this town had to offer.

 

***

 

The taxi service on the mountain was much better than what Arin thought it would be—smelled a lot better too. Near the center of the town, he was dropped off, and this time, he came prepared. With his wallet and a map lent to him by the friendly cabby that dropped him off, Arin was ready to explore the quaint township located near the base of the mountain. He traversed down the sidewalks of the main strip, admiring the painted woodwork of the shops and the aromas wafting through the chimneys of the various restaurants. People greeted him with smiles and kindness. Once more, he was reminded how far from Los Angeles he was. The hustle and bustle of city life was vacant from this small, mountain town as people moseyed here and there without a care in the world. 

There was something so serene about this place, something so welcoming, that Arin almost began to fear the end of this week when Barry would come for him and they would return to the daily frustrations of their normal lives. 

It was a fleeting thought as Arin knew he wasn’t made to last in the rural world far from the luxuries of high-speed internet and abundant amenities.

Just as Arin was about to cross the street, he caught sight of a young man pacing back and forth on the pavement, muttering low and anxiously to himself. Maybe it was the fresh air that lowered the wary walls Arin was accustomed to hide behind, but with a careful approach, he neared the man. 

“Hey, are you all right?” 

The man turned with eyes wide and bluer than the summer sky. “All right? Yeah, sure—no, I’m not. What am I going to do? I’m so fucked, man. Like, dude, I’m in over my head here. Basically drowning. No, drowning is probably better than this. Fuck, man. Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

The stranger fidgeted like a child, twiddling his fingers and shifting his glance back and forth across the street. Arin’s brow pinched together as he softened a smile and asked, “Do you need some help? I mean, I don’t know how much good I can do, but—”

“I’m lost,” the stranger shot in a flurry as he shed the weight of a nervous laugh. “I’m lost and my wife is going to kill me if I don’t come back soon. It’s our anniversary, all right? I told her, I said, ‘Yo, baby face, you relax and let me handle everything today.’ You know, I thought I was being, you know, smooth and stuff. Like a real man—but I got down here and I have no idea where I’m going or how to get back. I left my phone back at the cabin and I am so… so screwed.”

“Look, man,” Arin said as he pulled his phone out of his pocket. “You can use my phone if you need to. What all did you come down here to get?”

“I don’t know,” the man shrugged tight his shoulders. “Groceries and shit, I guess? I didn’t really ask. I know we need bird food.”

“Bird food?” 

“Yeah, lots of it. Like, it’s super important. If I go back without bird food, my wife will murder me in my sleep.” 

Arin laughed, but immediately regretted it as he saw how nervous the stranger was becoming. “I think the store is like, right down the street. Let’s head over, see what we can find, get the bird food, and hitch a taxi back. You’re staying up on the mountain, right?”

“Yeah, in-in the Conrad cabin. I’m Ross. You new here, too?”

“I’m Arin,” he introduced himself before coaxing Ross down to cross the street. “Yeah, I just got in yesterday from L.A. I’m just as lost as you are around here.”

Ross heaved a sigh before following after him. “At least I’m not alone then.”

 

***

 

The wheels on their shopping carts squeaked and turned as they rushed down aisle after aisle. Arin wasn’t entirely sure if Ross was calmed down at all or if he was naturally hyperactive, as the native Australian raced from one topic to the next before returning to the matter at hand. 

“Women like salad right? That’s romantic, isn’t it?” Ross asked as he grabbed a head of lettuce from the wet wall. 

“Uh, I mean, I guess?” Arin shrugged. “You know, there’s a lot of places in town you could just take your wife instead of cooking for her.”

“Man, I shouldn’t have to pay other people to be romantic to my wife,” Ross lamented as he set down the lettuce. “Holly’s going to hate me forever.”

“She’s not going to hate you,” Arin groaned as he grabbed a bag of bread from a shelf. “Just, take a deep breath, Ross. Take a deep breath and think. Do you really want to go back to the cabin, hopefully find cookware, make a meal, hope it turns out all right, and then do clean up?” 

“Of course I don’t!” 

“Then just take her out to a restaurant.”

“But what if the food isn’t good?!” 

“Dude, I’m not telling you to take her out to a fast-food place, just… look, I walked by an Italian place earlier. It looked classy, just take her there.” 

“… will you go with me?”

“On a date with _your_ wife?” Arin laughed at the thought. “Ross, it’s not a big deal. How long have you been married?”

“It’s a year today,” Ross stressed. “If I don’t prove to her today that I’m amazing, why would she want to spend any more years with me?”

Jesus. 

“Ross, just buy some food here and surprise her with the Italian place later. She’ll enjoy it, you’ll enjoy it, it’ll be great.” 

“Are you _sure_?” Ross pressed. 

“Absolutely.” 

“All right. I’ll do it—but I swear, Arin Hanson, if tonight is not magical, I will find you and have some cross words to say.”

Arin rolled his eyes as he began to push his cart down the aisle. Just before he could continue his own shopping, he stopped. 

“…how did you know my last name?”

Ross glanced up from his cart. “What are you talking about?”

“I don’t remember telling you my last name,” Arin answered. 

Ross laughed and pushed his cart past where Arin stopped. “Are you serious? Yes, you did. We were on the street, remember? Look, are we still hitching a ride together because I’m ready to woo my wife with the most romantic, Italian evening she’s ever seen.”

As Arin opened his mouth to answer, a deep voice rumbled from behind him.

“Italian. Now where did you get that idea, I wonder?” 

A shiver coursed down Arin’s neck bringing him to turn to see the familiar curl of a smile spanning across the game warden’s face. 

“Mark,” Arin breathed, unable to stunt the crawl of color from staining his cheeks. 

“Hanson,” the warden answered with bass as he approached. “Keeping out of trouble?”

“I do what I can.” Arin looked to Ross to catch his cautious glance. “Oh, Ross, this is Mark, he’s a wildlife officer. Mark, this is Ross, he’s… Ross.”

“Pleasure,” Mark said with a nod.

“Sup.” 

“I didn’t mean to intrude on your riveting conversation,” Mark started, “but I noticed when I got back home this morning that you left your bag on my couch. If you want, I can run it by your place after I get off work tonight, or you could come back out and try your hand at my wolf-invested woods.”

“I think I might pass.” Arin snorted a laugh. “You should drop by, though. I’m getting stuff now, so maybe instead of buying you dinner I could just make you some.”

“As an on-duty officer, I must inform you that it is unlawful to accept gifts from civilians, but as a starving man, I’ll be over at nine.” 

“Arin, you ready to go?” Ross called. 

“Yeah, yeah, let’s go,” Arin groaned before pushing his cart down the aisle. “See you later, Mark.” 

Mark smiled at his leave, but it was fleeting as he matched gazes with Ross. 

Slowly, a curling smirk pulled over Ross’s face before he turned and made haste after Arin. 

Behind, Mark remained with a narrowing glare.


	6. The Cabby

As they left the market with burdensome bags stashed high in their arms, Arin awkwardly shifted and fumbled his phone out from his pocket while Ross was continuing a confusing story that, at this point, Arin was hardly listening to. 

“What are you doing?” Ross asked before setting down his bags on a street side bench. As Arin opened his mouth to speak, Ross gasped. “Oh—that’s _right_ , the taxi!” 

“Unless you wanted us to walk up the mountain ourselves,” Arin mumbled with a laugh as he searched for the local taxi number. “Jesus, why can’t I find this fucking number?”

The sound of tires squealing against pavement brought Arin’s gaze to rise as a taxi, sleek and yellow, bolted down the street and came to a sputtering halt just before the market doors. Cautious at the sudden appearance of a cab, or perhaps at the recklessness and lack of safety of the cabby’s driving, Arin stepped back and watched warily as the window rolled down and a man leaned over to shout at them.

“Hey, you two needin’ a ride?” the bearded stranger called in the slur of an upper Northern accent. 

While Ross eagerly snatched the weight of his bags, Arin hesitated. 

“How did you know we needed a taxi?” he asked as he began to make a careful approach.

“’Ey, times are tough—small town like _this_? Gotta keep my eye out for some people in need. Now you needin’ a ride or what?”

“Guess you don’t need to find that number now,” Ross said as he opened up the trunk and began transferring his groceries. 

“Apparently not,” Arin huffed before tucking his phone back into his pocket. 

“Hey, uh… driver—”

“Jon,” the cabby shot back.

“—uh, Jon… think you could give us a hand with these?”

Jon narrowed his gaze and hesitated. “…you gonna pay me extra?”

“I mean—yeah, sure, I’ll pay you extra,” Arin groaned as he wobbled down the pavement toward the end of the taxi. 

“Say no more, say no more,” Jon called as he rocked his weight out of the driver seat and rushed to Arin’s aid. “More than happy to help out the generously paying clientele.”

“I’m sure you are.” Arin smiled before Jon scooped some of the bags off his arms. “Thanks, man.” 

“No, no, no,” Jon groaned as he rounded the taxi to see Ross tossing in grocery bags. “Who taught you to stack, Helen Keller? C’mon, get your act together. This is a classy taxi, can’t just go lugging things everywhere—we’re not animals, you know?”

“I’ll have you know that I am _quite_ the animal,” Ross huffed before shoving in the last of his bags to the sloppily packed trunk.

“Is that so?” Jon puffed. “Well, ain’t no pets allowed in my cab, pal. How ‘bout that?” 

“Ross, stop being difficult,” Arin groaned. “Just apologize and get in the taxi.”

Pouting out his lip like the child he was, Ross glared at Arin before glancing back to Jon who now crossed his arms in triumph. “… sorry.”

“Was that so hard?” Jon beamed. “Now get in. I don’t have all day—well, I do, but not for you.” 

 

***

 

The taxi rocketed down the street taking turns much faster than Arin was prepared for, as was apparent by how hard he clutched into the fabric of the seat he occupied. 

“So, where we off to, boys?” Jon called as he spun the wheel. 

Arin heard the clink of bottles and crinkle of paper from behind him. He was certain the trunk was now a wreck of mixed groceries and torn bags. This might have concerned him if he wasn’t already in great fear for his life. 

“The cabins up on the mountain,” Ross chirped as he settled into his seat, obviously unafraid of the dangerous behavior of their driver. 

“Ah, the cabins, huh? They got some nice ones up there? I’ve been thinking of taking a vacation. You know, get in the great outdoors. City life is killing me.”

“Where we just were?” Arin asked. “It’s more of a village than a city.”

“Nah—not the town. What are you, nuts? I’m up North. I come out here during the fall for the extra cash. Regularly, I tend a bar, but sometimes I just got to get out, you know? Get some fresh air. Besides, this town’s been good to me. If you’re looking for a quiet place to settle, this is it.” 

“If you like it so much why don’t you move out here?” Arin asked before clenching his jaw as the taxi swerved to miss another fire hydrant. 

“I would, but I got the bar to look after. It’s my bread and butter. I only keep coming back out here ‘cause I like the people. The pay’s pretty good, too.” 

“Holly and I were thinking of making the cabin our home,” Ross mentioned before shifting uncomfortably in his seat. “You know, assuming this place is as good as she recalls it being from when she was young.” 

“You tellin’ me I’ve got to put up with you every fall from now on?” Jon asked as he glanced in the rear-view mirror at his passengers.

“Watch it, sir,” Ross cautioned. “I’m known to be a terrible tipper.” 

“That’s… not something people normally brag about,” Arin commented with concern. 

“You’re lucky I’m not charging you double for that big mouth of yours, kid,” Jon snapped back. “So help me, I will turn this cab around.” 

“I don’t believe you,” Ross challenged.

“ _Ross_ ,” Arin warned.

“And you hang out with this guy?” Jon asked Arin. 

“Hey,” Ross snapped, “we’re on our way to becoming best friends.” 

“I never agreed to that,” Arin mumbled. 

“Kid, I think so far I’ve got more in common with your friend here than you do,” Jon scoffed at Ross’s reflection in his mirror. 

“Yeah? How’s that?”

“Well, we both don’t like you, for starters.”

“—are we there yet?” Arin asked as he forced his attention out to the blur of pine trees zipping by his window. 

“Actually, we are,” Jon answered as the taxi came to the bending trail before the gates of the mountain retreat. 

As Ross rolled out of his seat and worked open the latch of the trunk, Arin pulled out his wallet and shifted through bills. “What do I owe you?”

With a wave of his hand, Jon pushed away the money. “Eh, for you? It’s on the house. Take it as a ‘Welcome to Whisper Hollow’ gift.”

“Are you sure?” Arin pushed. “I mean, it was kind of a long drive out here. I don’t feel right not paying you.”

“Oh, I’m still getting my money,” Jon answered before shifting himself to lean out the window. “’Ey, pencil neck. You owe me fifteen bucks.” 

“What?” Ross gasped. “But I—”

“EH,” Jon barked. “Don’t care. Now pay up.”

With a soft smile, Arin lifted out of the backseat of the taxi and rounded back toward the trunk to grab his groceries. 

“Hey, you should come by the cabin after you get all your stuff home. Holly would love to meet you,” Ross called as Jon snatched the wad of bills from his hand and began counting. 

“I just might do that,” Arin answered as he cradled his bags. “It’d be nice to have some company—take it easy, Jon.” 

“Will do, boss.”

The sound of Jon and Ross’s bickering followed Arin as he passed the gates and headed down the trail back to the stead of his borrowed cabin. He smiled at the thought of Ross puffing out his chest in a futile attempt to appear bigger than the burly, bearded cabby. What a pair. 

He was glad to see that even in the serene setting of the mountain retreat and small town that the colorful characters of a big city seemed to follow him. It reminded him of home, minus all the sounds and frustrations. 

The bags in Arin’s hands began to slip, tearing him swiftly from the fogs of his reveries. A look of worry creased over his face as he shifted his arms and tried to balance the weight of his bags, but with no luck. 

“No, no, no, no,” Arin hissed as the bags teetered forward, himself following. 

Suddenly, a weight smacked against him, arms pressed against his own as a stranger steadied his hold and prevented Arin from having to make another trip back down into town. A sigh escaped through Arin’s lips before he realized he was not alone. 

His brow perked and his gaze slowly rose as the stranger spoke.

“Hey, you all right there, sweetheart?” 

Hair wove down in coils, dark like the eyes that smiled down on him with a bewitching gleam. 

Heat washed over Arin’s face at the closeness they shared. For a moment, he forgot about the bags stacked precariously in his arms as he felt lost in the stranger’s eyes. He blinked away the snare and tipped back, accepting the bags back into his arms as a laugh bubbled through his throat. 

“Uh-hah… y-yeah, I’m… I’m all right.” 

“Here,” the stranger started forward. “Let me help you with those.”

“You don’t have to, I can—” before Arin could finish, the relief of the weight he balanced was swept from his arms. “O-oh… thank you… uh…”

“Dan,” the stranger answered. “Just call me Dan.”  


	7. The Warning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (this is super long to make up for the time that I was unable to upload. Enjoy!)

“Dan,” Arin echoed the introduction. 

His eyes flicked over the curves and edges of Dan’s face where he found brief glimpses of familiarity. It was like seeing an old friend from childhood, all grown up, but Arin couldn’t recall exactly where he knew the stranger from. 

With curiosity tingling on the tip of his tongue, Arin took a step nearer and snapped himself out of the spell coming over him. “Have we… met before?”

“Don’t think so,” Dan answered as he shifted the weight of the grocery bags in his arms. “Well, not officially, anyways. I saw you come in yesterday, but, you seemed a little busy and I didn’t want to bother you.”

“Are you sure you’ve got those?” Arin pressed as he looked down to the many bags filling Dan’s arms. “You really don’t have to, I can get them.”

“Don’t worry about it. I’m happy to help.” Dan replied before turning himself to match shoulders with Arin. “Just lead the way and I’ll follow.” 

A smile tugged at the corner of Arin’s mouth and the heat of color warmed his cheeks. His hand rose to nervously smooth through the lengths of his hair as he steadied himself. He had been attracted to men before, this wasn’t new for him, but no matter how hard Arin tried, he couldn’t stop himself from stealing glances at Dan. He felt bewitched and certain that the consequences of his curiosity would soon undo him. 

They strolled onward in comfortable silence, but Arin didn’t want it this way. He wanted to ask questions, about where Dan was from, if he was here alone, how long he was staying, but the constant flutter of butterflies in his stomach stunted any words from escaping through the creeping smile he just could not suppress. He felt like an idiot.

“So,” Dan started in a drawl that pattered quick the confines of Arin’s heart. “I don’t think I caught your name.”

“Oh—uh, yeah, hah.” For the love of all that is good, stop being weird, Arin. “It’s… Arin. Arin Hanson.”

“Arin, huh? I think I heard Mark talking about you.” 

“You know Officer Mark?” Arin’s interest peaked. “What did he… say?” 

“Nothing too bad.” Dan answered with a smile. “He just keeps all the mountain-goers informed on what’s going on. He’s basically our go-to guy for gossip. He mentioned there was a new face on the mountain… and that you were chased by a presumably gigantic wolf.”

“Oh,” Arin breathed, his blush darkening.

“Hey, it isn’t the first time something like that has happened,” Dan told him. “We get pretty big timber wolves out here, normally around this time of year. You’re lucky Mark found you when he did.”

“Yeah,” Arin mumbled in agreement.

The embarrassment filling Arin was soon displaced as their conversation continued. They spoke of the mountain and its inhabitants. Dan told Arin much of the town down below and all the things he could find down there, like an arcade, an art museum and store, and a record shop. Arin was surprised at these new revelations as he didn’t see anything like that down there earlier. Perhaps he just wasn’t looking hard enough.

“You know, if you ever need someone to get lost on the trails with, I think my schedule is pretty free these days,” Dan offered with a smile.

Arin’s brow perked. “I… wouldn’t want to bother you. You probably have your own stuff going on.” 

“Yeah? Like what?” Dan asked, intrigued. “What could I have going on up in the mountains? You know, I am a little behind on catching fish with my teeth and fighting off bears.” 

“See, I knew you were busy.” Arin said with a broadening smile. “If you need any help with that, I’ve taken many a class in the art of fighting bears.”

“Is that so? I could use some pointers. I guess it’s settled then.”

“What’s settled?” Arin probed with a cautious glance. 

“I keep you safe on the trails from wolves, you fight off bears.” Dan grinned. “It’s only fair.”

“I mean, I guess, but you haven’t seen these wolves, man. The one I saw was easily twice as big as your average Yogi Bear. Easily.” 

“Maybe, but I would have you there to help me fight it off, right? Surely your bear techniques could take down a demon wolf.”

“I dunno, man. It’d be risky.” Arin smiled. 

“Well, man, if you save me from your demon wolf, I’ll make sure that you get your just reward. There’s a theater down in the town. How do you feel about recycled movies from the 80’s on a less than amazing cloth screen?”

“That depends,” Arin answered, hesitantly. “What movies are playing right now?”

Dan sighed. “Jeeze, man, I don’t know. I think I saw a poster for ‘Breakfast Club’.” 

A gasp split Arin’s lips and in his excitement he grabbed onto Dan’s arm. 

“Dude, that is one of my favorite movies.” 

“Really?” Dan laughed. “We should go sometime.” 

“Yes, I agree. Totally.” 

“Tomorrow?” 

“Just give me a time and I’ll meet you down there,” Arin answered. 

As Dan and Arin walked up the steps of the Kramer cabin, Dan turned and faced Arin with a soft smile. “It’s a date then.”

At the word, Arin pinked and once more ran a hand through his hair. “I… guess it is.” 

Dan’s smiling lips parted to speak, but the words were silenced by the crackle of wood and the squawk of birds from the woods’ depths. The smile the stranger once had began to fail as he turned his eyes outward to the tree line. 

Arin watched him, concerned, as caution fell over Dan.  

“Are you all right?” Arin asked before following Dan’s eyes out to the forest. 

“It’s nothing,” Dan breathed. “I have to go.”

Before Arin could ask him why, he found the weight of his groceries swiftly shoved into his arms. Arin teetered and lightly cursed before watching Dan as he leapt off the porch and ran for the tree line.

“I’m sorry,” Dan called to him. “Meet me tomorrow at dusk. By the movie theatre.” 

“A-all right,” Arin called back.

As Dan disappeared behind the cover of the trees, Arin bit into the corner of his mouth in thought. That was definitely weird, but who was he to judge? Deciding to keep strong his positive thoughts, Arin jimmied open the door and slunk into the dark of his cabin to put away his groceries. 

The day was not over just yet, he thought, as there was still someone he had to meet. 

Guess it was about time to figure out why Ross bought so much bird food. 

 

***

 

The Conrad cabin wasn’t far from where Arin was lodging. As he made his way down the mulched, cedar trail, he began to wonder why he hadn’t seen the cabin when he first arrived here in the back of a taxi. He didn’t recall seeing any cabins other than the Kramer’s, but his thoughts were rather scattered that day. Perhaps he just wasn’t paying attention.

As Arin approached the quaint cabin tucked between a twisting grove of white birches, he heard a beautiful song. 

For a moment, he stilled and listened. 

A melody tweeted and twittered through the air, whimsical and sweet. 

Arin’s brow furrowed and his lips pulled into a smile as he tried to figure out the source of this bewildering tune. Forward, he crept through the grove, following the song as it fluttered between branches. 

“No, no, no, Aloysius! You’re falling flat. Try again.”

Arin rounded the side of the cabin. 

“—well, Marjory—my thoughts exactly. How are we supposed to show up to the concert when you’re doing it all wrong? Oh, and don’t you start, Gertrude. You’re just as guilty.” 

Creeping and silent, Arin peeked around the corner of the cabin to see a garden filled with weaving branches where owls and pigeons perched with ruffled feathers. Before them was a woman with wild, pink hair wearing a dress of mint green. Standing behind a music stand, she scolded her birds. 

“Oh, and you want to take a break? We haven’t even gotten to the chorus—all right, okay, fine,” the woman huffed and placed her hands on her hips. “Take five, everyone. We’re starting at the top after this, I hope you know.” 

Birds of all shapes and colors collected on the branches spread through the garden. One by one, they flitted off their perches and took to the air. In awe, Arin watched as the birds understood what was being said. 

“A guest, Tiponia?” the woman echoed. “Someone new, you say?” 

Arin paled. 

The pink coils of the woman’s hair twisted as she turned and matched gazes with Arin. Her curiosity was replaced quick with excitement. 

“Oh, Arin, isn’t it? My husband told me about you.” With haste, she neared in a hop and skip. “I want to thank you for saving him down in the town. He told me so much about you.”

“You must be… Holly,” Arin said before his hand was taken up and given a good shake. 

“That’s me!” Holly beamed. “I see you caught a glimpse of my concert. Let me apologize on their behalf. It’s not nearly where it needs to be, let me tell you.”

“The… birds?”

“Oh, you seem surprised,” Holly noted before planting again her hands on her hips. “Never seen an Avian ensemble before, have you?”

“I… can’t say I have,” Arin answered in honest with a laugh. “It’s… definitely something.”

“Well, thank you! You know, Ross told me that I wouldn’t be able to do it. He said that there was no way that I could wrangle the wildlife here and make a proper concert. Shows him, huh?”

“Yeah—wait, I… these birds are _wild_?”

“Of course. What, you think I just tote around a few dozen birds everywhere I go?” Holly laughed. “That’d be crazy.”

The back door to the cabin opened and from inside came Ross, fumbling with the length of a tie. “Holly, do I really have to wear this?” he asked before glancing up. The pout he held turned to a smile at the sight of his guest. “Oh, Arin. I was afraid you wouldn’t come.” 

“Ross is taking me out to dinner for our anniversary,” Holly boasted with a giggle. “He’s such a sweetie face.”

“Stop, you’re embarrassing me in front of my friend,” Ross whined. 

Holly bit into her lips as she neared her husband and placed her hands against his chest. “I’m sorry, hon. Here, let me help you with your tie.”

“Are you guys leaving soon?” Arin asked. “I don’t want to keep you if you have reservations.”

“Oh, you’re fine,” Holly answered. “This was a spur of the moment thing. You know, if you’re free, you could come down to the town with us.”

“That’s what I said!” Ross chirped. 

“Thanks for the offer, but, I promised Officer Mark that I would make him dinner tonight.” Arin smiled. “You know, I met this guy named Dan and we’re going to see a movie tomorrow. You should come down with us. We’ll make it a double-date.”

“You met Dan?” Ross asked as his brow shot up. 

“Is that… surprising?”

“Dan is the owner of everything on the mountain,” Holly said. “The cabins, the trails, even the place Mark stays in belongs to Dan. He normally has his nose shoved into his work, it’s… kinda amazing he’s out and about. I wouldn’t be surprised if he owns half of the town, really.”

“Yeah, he’s like, super rich,” Ross added. “I heard he’s thinking of doing an expansion on the town. Going to add a mall and a skating rink and all sorts of cool shit.”

“Where did you hear that?” Holly asked. 

“You know… around.” Ross shrugged. 

“Really?” Arin pressed. He found himself thinking of that smile and those wild coils of dark hair that brought heat to his face. “He seems so… young, though.”

“He’s an Avidan,” Holly replied with a laugh. “The whole family is like that.”

“Yeah, but they’re really good people,” Ross said in a rush. “Dan is like… the nicest millionaire I’ve ever met.”

“Sounds like you got a crush, Ross,” Arin joked with a smirk.

“I do _not_!” Ross snapped. “I just… he’s really cool, you know? A lot of people around here look up to him.”

“He’s the reason the town thrives as much as it does,” Holly told Arin. “If he and his family didn’t take an interest in this place, the people here would really suffer. So, you treat him good, Arin. Don’t spurn the millionaire.”

A laugh bubbled through Arin’s smile before he rolled his eyes and shrugged. “Well, I’ll see what I can do.”

“Or you could charm him and get him to spend all his cash on you,” Ross offered.

“ _Ross_ ,” Holly chastised.

“What? Like that’s such a bad thing? It’d do it for you. I’d get you a solid gold aviary, baby girl. Made from the money I get from being the Avidans’ booty call.”

“Aw, sweetie.” Holly giggled.  

“You’re… not right, Ross,” Arin groaned. “Not at all.”

“Why be right when you can be left?” Ross offered causing his wife to roll her eyes.

“We should probably get going, it’s getting late,” Holly said to her husband before turning toward Arin. “We’ll definitely go on that double-date with you. It sounds like it’d be a lot of fun.” 

“I’ll stop by tomorrow on my way down to the theatre,” Arin said as he began to back step out of the garden. “You two have a wonderful anniversary dinner. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Later, Arin,” Ross called.

“Goodbye! It was nice meeting you!” Holly sang. 

 

***

 

As Arin made his way back through the grove of birches, he thought back on all the events of this week. Though it just began, so much had happened already. When he left Los Angeles, he was frightened of the isolation he would find out on the mountain, but instead, he was met with the companionship of so many odd people. It was a breath of relief from what he was anticipating during his journey to the mountain retreat. 

As Arin moseyed further down the trails back to the warmth and familiarity of his borrowed cabin, the daylight fell shrouded by the weaving, barren branches of the nearby timber causing a cast of darkness to fall over the woodland trails. Strung between the trees, hanging on woven wires and twine, was the weight of swinging lanterns meant to guide his path. If only such things decorated the trails further in the forest, Arin might not have lost his way the previous night.  
Lost to his wanderings, of Holly and Ross, of Dan and Mark, and the ever bewildering retreat here on the mountain, Arin gave little thought to the world that spun around him through the briers and underbrush. It wasn’t until he heard a sound, distinct and sudden, that he stilled upon the trail and gave attention to the trees beside him. 

A branch snapped beneath the weight of something large, shaking Arin from the hold of his distant reveries. 

“Hello?” he called, glancing between the towering trunks. “Is someone there?”

No response.

A thin veil of sweat burdened him as the fear of the unknown overcame him. Unwilling to give any more thought to the shadows that danced behind the flicker of lantern light, Arin continued down the path with a hastened step.  
The world around him was large and coated thick with darkness. All manner of things could lurk there in the woods, watching him, stalking him, and he would be none the wiser. He tried not to let the thought of such nightmares riddle him, but it was much easier said than done. He recalled the sight of the black wolf with shining, silver eyes. Could the phantasmal monster he feared be the same fanged canine, deprived of last night’s meal? 

Fuck, he hated this. 

Arin only further quickened his steps. Beneath his shoes, leaves churned and crunched, but he kept an eager ear listening for more sounds of twigs snapping just beyond the curtains of shadows. He felt the burn of eyes following him, ever vigilant. He wanted to sprint back to the cabin, despite how pitiful it would be if he ran from nothing but his own imagination. How could he be sure?  
Swallowing down the lump building in his throat, Arin slowed his steps until he at last stood still in the wide maw of the woodland beast. His ears strained to hear the chirp of crickets or the hiss of insect wings, but there was no sound other than the choppy breaths he drew and the nearing sound of footsteps from behind. 

With nerves strung thin and alit with fear, Arin turned and faced the darkness behind him and the figure that stalked him through the night. 

Before he could realize what happened, he was rushed and shoved down to the earthen bed. His head struck hard against an unearthed root and his vision danced as hands gripped against him and shoved him further down. He fought back, but his efforts were made in vain. 

A mask stretched across the stranger’s face, concealing all but the light of his pale, blue eyes. Lifeless, merciless eyes. 

“L-let me go,” Arin struggled, thoughts running rampant of what could be, what might be.

The stranger pushed him down harder, restraining him. 

“You shouldn’t be here,” the weight of a voice breathed through the fabric of the mask. “You need to leave.” 

“W-what?”

“Don’t trust them. Don’t listen to them. You need to leave.” 

“L-let me go!” 

“Leave,” the stranger snarled. “Get out of here before it’s too late.” 

Arin’s heart raced as he gaped up at the violent eyes glaring down at him. Before he could demand once more to be let go, the stranger relinquished his hold and quickly stood. His eyes turned out to the tree line and, as sudden as he appeared, he sprinted from the trail and was gone.  

With heaving breaths, Arin remained across the patch of the trail, thoughts unraveled, bewildered, horrified. His hands trembled as he pushed up to stand. His knees buckled as he took the first step down the path, but after he regained his strength, Arin took off in a sprint for the cabin. 

 

***

 

One by one, Arin flicked on all the lights. 

The bedrooms, the bathroom, the foyer, the kitchen, the living room—all were well illuminated and goddamn they were staying that way. More than once, Arin swept back and forth between the front door and the rear entryway to check the locks. For a time, he drummed his thumbs against the screen of his phone as he contemplated calling someone—anyone—just to hear a voice. Even if it meant calling up the taxi service and requesting Jon, just someone. 

“Calm down, Arin,” he told himself before taking a deep breath. “It’s going to be fine. It was… just a crazy mountain man. A crazy, fucking scary, possibly homicidal… mountain man.” 

He heaved another breath. 

Suddenly, the sound of a knock on the front door startled him enough to cause him to jump and yelp. 

“Hanson, it’s me,” Mark’s muffled voice called from outside the cabin. “I hope we’re still on for dinner.”

Arin placed a hand over his chest to still his heart as he let off a moan of relief. “Y-yeah, just… gimme a minute.” 

Composing himself, Arin swept over to the front door, unlatched it, and swung open its weight to see the uniformed officer waiting on his porch. 

“I-I’m… so glad to see you,” Arin said with a trembling grin. 

“Really?” Mark asked before stepping into the foyer to take off the weight of his black, furred coat. “Because it looks like I just scared the piss out of you. Sorry for showing up so late, I had… a lot of work to attend to.” 

“No, no, it’s fine.” Arin said in a breath of reassurance as he crossed over to the kitchen and began pulling out the needed ingredients for their supper. “I… had a crazy night, too.”

“Tell me about it?” Mark smiled as he followed after Arin and aided him in his efforts. 

“Where do I begin?” Arin’s smile faltered. He felt like screaming, or maybe it was crying. Right now, he couldn’t tell. “Well, uh, Ross and I nearly died on our way back to the mountain because of a really nice cabby that drove like a bat out of hell. I met Ross’s wife, Holly, who may or may not be insane for trying to put together a choir of… birds. And then, this is… this is the highlight of my strange day—I was attacked by a fucking mountain man.”

“A mountain man?” Mark echoed with a perked brow. 

“Yeah, it was… right after leaving Ross and Holly’s cabin.” Arin set down the box of noodles as his hands became more unsteady at the retelling of his horror. “He came out of nowhere, like, I thought there was someone or-or something there, but, you know, I just thought it was my imagination? But, there he was. All in black, with a mask—I couldn’t see his face. He shoved me to the ground and, and started giving me these ominous warnings.”

“What did he say?” Mark pressed, solemnly. 

Arin’s shoulders slumped as he took a moment to catch his breath and calm himself. “He said… to leave. I’m guessing he meant the mountain. It was like he was telling me I was going to die if I stuck around and… I don’t know, it was… really terrifying.” 

When Mark did not answer right away, Arin turned to see him nearer now. The warmth of the warden’s hands trailed up Arin’s arms before weighing on his shoulders. Only in his strong hands was Arin able to finally relax.

“Arin, I want you to listen to me,” Mark started low. “I don’t know who you saw out in the woods, but I will make certain that you never see him again, all right? You always have one crazy person that tries to ruin everyone else’s fun. If I have to call in other officers and get a search party for this guy, I will. Your safety and well-being is my prime concern right now. If you need me to stay tonight with you, or, if you want to come back to my cabin, you are more than welcome to.” 

A smile, weak, but sincere, pulled over Arin’s lips as he dropped the weight of his head to hide his growing blush. “Thanks, Mark… for everything.” 

“Anytime.” Mark smiled. “Now, I’m starving… so, why don’t you sit down and I’ll cook. It’s the least I can do for you.”

Unable to argue, or perhaps lacking the strength to, Arin nodded in agreement before shambling over to the kitchen table and surrendering his weight into a chair. He rested his head down on the polished wood before heaving a sigh and saying, “Tell me about your day.”

“Not much to say, I’m afraid,” Mark said in a sigh before flipping on the stove and setting the water to boil. “Woke up early, patrolled the trails, met with my boss to discuss future arrangements. Basically my everyday life. Went down to the store for lunch, where I met you and… Ross. Back to the trails, followed a few leads. Documented wildlife, you know, made sure everything on the mountain was still in working order.”

“Like what?” Arin poked, curiously. 

“Ranger stations, towers, dams.” Mark’s shoulders rolled. “Just this and that, really. If it were up to me, my days would be spent on my porch, lounging around in the sun. Unfortunately, my boss can be a bit of a…” his lips ticked into a smile, “well, a bit of a devil. He’s rather obsessed with the upkeep of the mountain. Anything to please him.” 

“Have I met him?” Arin asked as he propped up his head to watch Mark cook. “This boss of yours, I mean.” 

“I don’t imagine so. He tends to keep to his own.” 

Arin’s lips puckered in thought. He heard something similar to that earlier. Now what was it? 

“—you know,” Mark said as he moved the pot over to the strainer, “I can’t tell you the last time I cooked a meal. I’m not sure if I should tell you that. It’ll be good, so don’t worry. I promise I won’t poison you just yet—”

“Dan.” Arin blurted as fast as the thought came to him.

Mark stilled. 

Hesitantly, the pot lowered from the warden’s hands as he cast his wary gaze over to Arin. “…how do you know that name?” 

Arin’s shoulders rolled. “Well, Holly and Ross were telling me about him—also, I met him just before I went over to their cabin. He seems really nice.”

“You met him?” Mark pushed. 

“Well, yeah. I mean, Holly said he basically owns the mountain, right? Like, he loves the mountain and stuff, so why wouldn’t I see him out and about?” 

“But you met him. _Personally_ met him.” Mark stressed as he rounded the kitchen counters to face Arin. “As in, you _saw_ him.” 

“Uh, yeah. We talked for a bit, too. He actually saved me from dropping my groceries, so, next time you see him, tell him thanks. I would have hated to have gone back down to the town.” The smile that was building on Arin’s lips began to fail at the sight of tension clenched through Mark’s jaw. “Are you all right?”

Mark’s brow fell over the downcast eyes he flickered back and forth. Before he gave a response, the warden stormed toward the foyer bringing Arin to stand and follow after him. 

“I have to go,” Mark rushed in a heated breath. 

“What?” Arin’s brow furrowed. “Why? Did I… say something?” 

“No, it’s… not you, Arin. I just… have something I need to do. I’m sorry, really, I am.”

Arin watched as Mark hastily pulled on the weight of his leather and fur coat. Anxious and frightened of their goodbye, he asked, “Will you… come back?”

“Not tonight,” the warden rumbled. “I’ll see you tomorrow. I promise.”

Before Arin could say any more, Mark swiftly opened the door and rushed out, taking with him the remaining warmth of the cabin. 

 

***

 

Across the crackling stone, Dan danced back and forth. With the curve of a jagged, black talon, he carved a wooden doll. The black pits of his eyes shined fondly down upon the creation he carried like a child. As he came to the end of his masterwork, he placed it down upon the stage of paper trees and posed it accordingly. Beside the small, wooden doll of a smiling boy was a smiling, wooden girl. Decorating the twisting spirals of paper and twine trees were wire dolls of owls. Each doll was made by his hand, crafted, perfect, as he intended them to be. 

With a deep breath of appreciation, he marveled at the sights of his crafted world. No matter how much he built, he still hungered for more. He could make the stage bigger, better than ever before. He could do anything. 

A gasping chill of cold breathed against the stage causing the paper leaves to rustle and shake as no longer did Dan inhabit this silent world alone. Tendrils of smoke coiled violently across the pastel world as from the cracks of paper and stone, a phantom rose. 

“You’re back early,” Dan noted without a glance as he drew another block of wood from the air and began another creation.

Only at the sound of hisses and snarls did Dan turn to see the rage coursing its way through the glaring phantom like the black that wrought its veins. 

“He was meant to be _mine_ ,” Dark growled, nearing swift in a seeping fog. “You’re changing the game.”

“The game has always been the same,” Dan returned coolly.

“You interfered. You can’t _do_ that.”

“I believe I can do what I want, dear. There’s no need to pout.” 

Quick like the fog and just as cold, the hand of Dark shot out and snatched Dan’s throat, steadying him, forcing him to return the black, soulless glare that Dark cast upon him. 

“He is mine,” Dark rumbled. “That was the deal. That is why I’m here.” 

“You’re here because I want you to be,” Dan shot back, narrowing his dark gaze. “It’d be best if you didn’t forget that.” 

“Why are you doing this? Why are you prolonging the game?” Dark pressed, impatient.

“He intrigues me,” Dan answered in honest. “It’s as simple as that.”

“It’s never that simple, Daniel.” Dark released his hold, retreated, still glaring. “You can’t lie to me.” 

“And I’m not. I can see you’re not having fun, sweetheart, so why don’t we make this interesting.” A smile curled on Dan’s lips. “How about we make a wager?” 

Dark was silent, but interest gleamed in his black eyes. 

“If you can successfully win his heart, you can have him. Body, soul—it doesn’t matter. Win the game and I’ll let you have what pieces of him you want.”

“And the catch?” Dark asked, warily. 

“… if I steal his heart first,” Dan began, “I want to keep him as he is. Another pet to keep me company.”

Dark’s eyes narrowed. 

“Well?” Dan pushed, hand outreached. “Have we got a deal?” 

Dark’s head lowered in thought. Before he gave his answer, his eyes flickered up and he breathed, “There’s someone new. He told Arin about the game.”

“I know,” Dan answered, gravely. “I’ll take care of it. Do we have a deal?”

Hesitantly, the phantom made approach. Though wariness still etched the dark of his eyes, his hand seized the creator’s and tightened in grip.

“Deal,” Dark growled.


	8. The Date

Even with all the lights on in the cabin, Arin found it difficult to rest easy.

Just as his eyes, heavy with exhaustion and worry, began to close, a strange noise would bring them to widen once more, alert. While normally he could mark off the sounds to be the wind or the cabin settling on the ground where it was built, under the circumstances, Arin could not find the sensible reason to dismiss his wild fears. He would push himself out of the dent in the living room couch and with sluggish steps he would patrol through the cabin. Room by room, he checked to see if the masked night prowler had returned with ominous warnings or if some demonic presence found haven in the Kramer halls.  
He felt stupid feeling so anxious over the soft breaths of wind against the windows, but no matter how hard he tried, Arin just couldn’t calm down.

It was near dawn by the time he claimed back his sanity and settled down to sleep against the cushions of the woodwork couch. Against his arm, he felt the vibrations of a notification coming from his phone. With eyes caked and glossed with the need of sleep, he swiped open his phone.

Barry.

“ **Hope you’re enjoying yourself up in the wilderness! Got a few meetings with potential sponsors today. I’ll keep you updated.** ”

Arin’s thumbs drummed against the side of his phone as he contemplated a response.

“ _ **Thanks, man. I’ve had a busy first few days here. Met lots of crazy ass people.**_ ”

Immediate response.

“ **Really? I didn’t think many people would be up there this time of year.** ”

“ _ **Dude, there’s loads of people here…**_ ”

Arin bit into the corner of his mouth as he thought of all the new people he had met. Some were eccentric, like Ross and Jon. Some were kind, like Mark and Holly. As Arin’s thoughts turned to the mysterious heir to the mountain’s fortunes, his lips began to pull into a smile. His thumbs flickered over the phone’s keyboard.

“ _ **… and one of them asked me out on a date.**_ ”

“ **Arin Hanson, you sly dog. I should have known you’d find some woodland beauty up there. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.** ”

Arin let off a laugh before setting down his phone against the cushion beside his head. Though they did not talk for long, hearing from Barry was enough to calm Arin. With arms dug beneath the cushion his head rested upon, he drifted to sleep as the faint rays of morning light drifted into the windows.

 

***

 

It was just past twelve when Arin rolled off the couch and tossed himself into the billowing steam of the shower. His hands worked down his face and neck before he felt the cool gemstone of his necklace. He had completely forgotten he was still wearing it. After the events of the previous night, he was too concerned with the crazed man from the woods to tell Mark that this necklace wasn’t his. Perhaps if he saw him today he’d return it. With how small the mountain and town were, Arin was sure he’d run into the handsome officer once again.

Just as Arin stepped out from the shower with a towel wrapped about his waist, he heard a knock come from the front door. Curious, he crept by the windows and peeked out the dusted panes only to see no one there. Stepping through the foyer, Arin hesitantly cracked open the door and winced against the harsh shine of daylight. As his eyes adjusted, he glanced down the trails before the cabin, no one. Just before he closed the door, he caught a glimpse of something sitting on the porch, something familiar.

His luggage.

Arin’s brow perked as he leaned down and hoisted up the bag he had forgotten in the back of the taxi. Before he could question its sudden appearance, he saw a note tied in twine on the luggage’s handle. The writing looked familiar.

_Arin,  
_

_This arrived in town just this morning. Thought you might need it.  
_

_You can thank me later._

A smile worked over Arin’s face as he turned into the warmth of the cabin, trailing his eyes over the note time and time again. It was Mark’s handwriting, he was sure of it. After laying the weight of his luggage across the couch, he opened its flap and searched through the clothes he packed. As he worked on the weight of his favorite Transformers t-shirt and worn, black jeans, Arin thought of how much time was left before his movie date down in the town.

There were still quite a few hours left to burn and not much around the cabin that he could do to preoccupy himself for that long. With wandering thoughts, he bit into the corner of his mouth. His hands felt restless, a feeling he now just realized as his thoughts calmed.

He never did finish that sketch of the landscape he started on the day of his arrival to the mountain. Just before Arin began to search for his misplaced sketchbook, he recalled its whereabouts.

He had left it, and his satchel, at Mark’s cabin.

“Oh, you gotta be fucking kidding me,” he breathed as he raised a hand to rub at his eyes.

Well, he had time, didn’t he?

Shrugging on the weight of a jacket he pulled from his luggage, Arin stepped outside the cabin and trekked down the trail by the woods.

 

***

 

This time, he wasn’t an idiot.

Keeping to the path of the main trail, Arin avoided the labyrinth hidden behind the cover of timber. There was too much he needed to do today and none of it required him getting lost in the woods. He dug his hands into the depths of his pockets as he sauntered down the cedar trail. In this time of silent solace, Arin allowed his mind to wander back to the home he left behind. With how busy he had been with work and traveling to this remote retreat, he hardly had time to reflect on the reason for coming out here.

Suzy.

His chest felt tight and heavy.

He remembered the day she told him it was over as if he just awoke from that nightmare.

He should have seen the warning signs, should have known how distant he was being, but he was so controlled by work that he had little time to give to her. By the time he realized something was wrong, it was already too late.

The thought of returning to Los Angeles made his stomach churn anxiously with regret.

Arin wanted Suzy to be happy, no matter her choices, but the idea of seeing her finding happiness with someone else was almost enough for him to fear ever returning to the place he once called home. Out here, things were simple—life was simple. There were no restaurants that held the remnants of haunted memories, no parks left stained by forgotten happiness, no chance of ever running into the woman of his dreams that he so foolishly let slip away.

His chest felt heavy.

Arin didn’t anticipate these painful thoughts to find him out in the solitude of the mountain’s trails. How far must he go to escape the demons he left behind?

His eyes flickered up to see just past the waves of wild, wheat grass the familiar edging of an isolated cabin. With such a thing in sight, his resolve was stirred and the plague of concerns that clutched at his heart became displaced. Arin quickly cut through the overgrown grass with an anxious skip to his step.

Basked in the light of day, Mark’s cabin was much more pleasant than Arin could remember. Sure, his major concern that night was escaping the jaws of a hungry wolf, but could this cabin have changed so greatly since then?

Bounding up the planks of the porch, Arin made a hesitant approach to the door.

What should he say? Should he say anything? Of course he should ask for his bag and sketchbook, but… what about last night? Should he ask if everything was all right? What if Arin was disturbing Mark? What if he wasn’t even home?

Jesus, get a hold of yourself, Arin. Don’t make this weird.

With a quick rap of his knuckles against the wooden door, he waited.

Silence.

Arin rocked on his heels and gave a glance about the cabin’s exterior before trying his luck again.

“Mark?” he called. “You home?”

When he went to knock again against the door, it pushed open beneath his hand.

Arin’s head cocked to the side as he peeked past the crack of the door to see darkness lingering behind its cover. Curiosity beckoned him further, bringing him to push open the door wider.

“Mark?” he called again. “I hope I’m not bothering you… if you’re here. I just… wanted to get the shit I left here the other night.”

Before he could peek any further into the cabin, a hand shot out and grabbed the door from opening any further causing Arin to jump back in surprise with a curse hot on his lips.

“Fucking shit, man,” Arin hissed. “Don’t do that!”

A low laugh rumbled through the darkness before Mark stepped out from behind the door with a growing smile. “What can I help you with, Hanson?”

“Fuck, I just—” Arin’s words fell stunted as he caught sight of Mark’s lack of clothing. Beneath the stretch of skin on his body, the warden’s toned muscles clenched as he leaned against the frame of his cabin door. Arin wasn’t sure how long he stared, but at the curling smile and knowing glance he caught from Mark, it was long enough. “—I-I just… uh, my bag. I came for my bag.”

“And sketchbook, right?” Mark asked before pushing off the door and retreating into the dimness of his cabin. “Sorry I didn’t answer earlier, you caught me in the middle of a nap.”

“Oh, uh, sorry, man.”

“Don’t be.” Mark returned with satchel and sketchbook in hand. “If anything, I should be the one apologizing to you. I didn’t mean to rush out on you last night. I hope you can forgive me.”

“Of course,” Arin answered with a soft smile. “I just hope that it wasn’t because of anything I said.”

“No, no, it wasn’t, I just,” Mark’s words cut short and his face softened. Before Arin could ask why, Mark’s brow furrowed as he asked, “Where did you get that?”

Following his eyes, Arin glanced down to the crimson pendant hanging down against his chest. “Oh, the necklace? You left it for me, remember? After you took me home the other night.”

Mark’s lips sealed together as he stared down at the necklace with concern creasing between his eyebrows.

“… I mean,” Arin started as he held up the gemstone, “that’s what you said in your note.”

“My note,” Mark echoed in a daze.

“Yeah.” Arin laughed. “Jesus, dude, you sure you’re awake yet? Oh—I also want to thank you for dropping by my luggage earlier. I have no idea how you found it, but I’m lucky that you did. I was… starting to run out of options for clothes.”

“Luggage?”

Arin’s eyes rolled as he heaved a deep breath. “Uh, yeah. Mark, are you sure you’re getting enough sleep? You literally just dropped it by my cabin.”

“I’ve… been asleep for a while now,” Mark said low with confusion wrought words. “It couldn’t have been me.”

“What?” Arin breathed a laugh. “It had to have been, who could have—”

“—I’m sorry,” Mark rushed as he began to close the door. “I have to go.”

“—wait,” Arin caught the door before it closed. “Mark, are you… all right? You’ve been acting different lately.”

“I feel different,” Mark confessed before shifting his eyes up to meet Arin’s concerned gaze. “You don’t need to worry about me, Arin. I just have a lot going on right now, but everything will get sorted out soon. Maybe we could get together. Tomorrow night. There’s a lot that I need to tell you about.”

“All right. Take it easy, Mark. Don’t push yourself so hard, okay?”

Marked rumbled a laugh. “I can’t make any promises, Hanson. I’ll see you soon. I promise.”

 

***

 

Arin sat out on his porch, drumming the end of his pencil against the stark white page he had been staring at for the last thirty minutes. He wanted to draw something, he did, but all he could think about was Mark and how odd their conversation was. How could he forget about leaving the necklace for him?

Sure, Arin knew Mark’s world didn’t revolve around him, but he left the note for him just the other day.

Arin sighed.

Maybe he was just reading too much into this. His paranoia could still be on high alert since running into the night prowler last night, but once he got a thought into his head, Arin found it difficult to let go.

He drew the end of his pencil across the page with no real end in sight. Sometimes it was better to scribble than stare blankly at a page, waiting for a muse to strike. He needed to do something, he couldn’t just sit here and dwell over all the strange occurrences as of late. With little else to keep him here and more eagerness to find his happiness elsewhere, Arin returned his sketchbook inside and started off down the trail.

The walk to the Conrad cabin didn’t take him long. Before he even made his way up the path to the cabin, the door opened and Ross excitedly greeted him.

“Hey, buddy,” the eccentric Aussie called. “We were wondering when you were going to show up!”

After a quick moment of listening to Ross’s ramblings and waiting for Holly to finish her rehearsal with the concert of birds, the three of them were off down the trail toward the main gate.

“So, ‘Breakfast Club’, huh?” Holly asked as she skipped to catch up to Arin’s side. “That’s kinda super romantic to see for a first date.”

“We’re just getting to know each other,” Arin stated with a subtle smile.

“No better way to know each other than by a sweet, hot make-out sesh.” Holly playfully pushed.

“I heard Dan’s like, a crazy awesome lover.” Ross chirped as he, too, caught up to Arin and his wife.

“Ross, where do you keep getting this information about Dan?” Holly asked with a cautious glance.

“…Around.”

“He probably heads the fan club,” Arin offered.

“Oh! Like, he’s the president?  Ross, do you coordinate meetings? Do you supply snacks and drinks or will we have to bring our own?” Holly joked with a broadening smile.

“What do you even talk about at a ‘Dan Avidan’ meeting?” Arin asked as he imagined a room filled with crazed girls, the lone male, Ross, and a plethora of pictures taken by questionable means of the mountain millionaire.

“Probably how cute he is.” Holly giggled.

“Guys, stop,” Ross whined. “You’re being mean!”

“If we promise to stop, will you invite us to the next meeting?” Holly joked with a quick prod to her husband’s side.

As Holly and Ross continued to bicker over the possible existence of a fan club dedicated to Dan, Arin found himself smiling brighter and laughing harder than he had in a long time. The previous concerns that riddled him were mere ripples on the lake of his now calmed mind. The only thought that could sour the happiness he found with these two odd companions was that soon he would have to tell them goodbye as he returned to his life in Los Angeles.

The thought was fleeting, at least for the moment, as Arin, Holly, and Ross exited out the gate to find a cab waiting for them. Inside the sleek, yellow taxi was the bearded, Northern barman.

“Jeeze, can you guys walk any slower?” Jon called. “I’ve been waiting here for hours!”

“I just called you like, five minutes ago,” Holly said as she opened the passenger side door to sit upfront with the irate cabby.

“Ain’t here to argue, lady. Jump in and let’s get rolling!”

“Good to see you, too, Jon,” Arin said as he slipped into the back with Ross.

With the thundering speed of a thousand hellhounds, the taxi sped off down the winding mountain roads toward the town that sat below. As Arin clutched into the fabric of his seat, he noticed how unbothered Holly and Ross were at Jon’s erratic driving. He couldn’t really be the only one terrified for his life, right?

“All right, pencil neck, you know the drill,” Jon said as he pulled up to the curb beside the movie theater.

“Seriously?” Ross groaned. “C’mon, why do you have to pick on me?”

Abandoning Ross to the disdain of the cabby, Arin crept out from the back of the cab and watched as tensions heightened and Holly was forced to become the mediator for the two over-sized children.

Arin suppressed a laugh as he watched the drama unfold. It was only when he felt the warmth of a hand brush against his arm and the sound of a voice beckon him that he turned to see he was expected.

“Glad you could make it,” Dan said with a soft smile.

Arin’s eyes flickered up and down his date’s long and lean body to find their attires nearly matched. Tight, dark jeans gripped against Dan’s legs while a black shirt embraced his chest. Swallowing down the dry patch in his throat, Arin fumbled a smile. “Why wouldn’t I?” he asked just as color crawled against his cheeks.

Dan’s smile turned from Arin to greet the newcomers that finally escaped the cab.

“You must be Dan,” Holly said as she reached forward to shake his hand. “I’m Holly and this is my husband, Ross. We’ve heard so much about you.”

“Really?” Dan gave a questioning glance to Arin whose blush only darkened. “I hope you haven’t heard anything too bad.”

“Oh, of course not,” Holly twittered. “Only good things, I assure you.”

“You’re even more beautiful than I imagined,” Ross breathed.

“—okay, well,” Arin cut in as he turned toward the theater. “Should we go in?”

“Oh, no,” Holly said with a pout, garnering the group’s attention.

“What?” asked Ross.

Arin followed Holly’s eyes to see a banner drawn across the glass doors of the movie theater. Printed in bold, dark letters, the banner read ‘Closed for Renovations’.

“Closed?” Dan echoed the sign’s statement with disbelief as he neared the doors. “It’s not closed—it shouldn’t be. I just…”

“Nice going, Arin,” Ross huffed. “You got us all excited for a movie and now we’re movie-less.”

“Gee, you’re right, Ross. I totally forgot that I asked the owners to make sure their place looked good before I came into town.”

“I guess we could always just do something else,” Holly offered to the group. “Ross and I went to that nice restaurant last night. Maybe we could eat out again.”

“How ‘bout it, Dan?” Arin turned to ask his date only to find him glaring intently at the banner. “Hey, don’t worry about it, man.”

“It’s supposed to be open,” Dan answered with a laugh. “I can’t believe he would do this.”

“Who, the owner? Shit happens, you know? The night’s not ruined though, so cheer up and let’s go get something to eat. I’ll buy.”

Releasing a heavy sigh, Dan turned back to Arin. “Always the optimist, huh?”

“No,” Arin disagreed with a shrug. “Just happy to be out with friends and don’t exactly want the night to end so soon. Besides, I haven’t eaten much today and I was super looking forward to greasy, movie popcorn. So, how about it, Mr. Avidan? Dinner?”

“Dinner sounds wonderful,” Dan answered as he relinquished his forlorn glare and instead held the gleam of a smile.

 

***

 

It had been a while since Arin had authentic Italy food.

A pristine tablecloth of white stretched beneath their dishes left billowing with savory steams. As Arin’s eyes gaped at the feast laid out before them, he could scarcely control the lusting growl his stomach rumbled. As Ross struggled over the pronunciation of a desert he wanted to order, Dan closed up the booklet of wine pairings and handed it back to the waitress.

“Please, bring out a bottle of your house special, Marzia.”

The Italian waitress gave a nod of her head as she accepted the booklet. “Can I get you anything else, Mr. Avidan?”

“No, I think this will do for now.” Dan flashed her a smile.

As the waitress returned to the kitchen to give the chef the rest of their order, Dan settled in his seat. His attention turned to Arin, and following it, his handsome smile. “So, Arin,” he began before plucking the weight of his water glass off the tablecloth, “I don’t think you ever told me where you’re from. Judging by your look and habit of getting lost on the mountain, I imagine you came from pretty far away.”

“Los Angeles,” Arin answered. “The drive out here took forever. Compared to the big city, this place is like a whole other world. I’ve never been in a cabin before—let alone camping, so this is completely new to me.”

“You get used to it pretty fast,” Holly said before taking a sip of her drink. “Ross is pretty new to it, too, but he hasn’t died yet.”

“Well, there’s still time,” Dan said with a sly smile.

The dinner progressed in much the same way all things did on the mountain, very, very quick. Though once reserved, the lot of them shed their walls and bared all. There were jokes and jabs, laughter and stories. If Arin didn’t know better, he would have suspected the three mountaineers to be among his closest and dearest of friends, yet they were still very much strangers.

For a time, Arin forgot about Los Angeles and Suzy, he forgot about his channel and all the frustrations he left behind. If only for a moment, he pretended as if this was his life. This restaurant, these people, Dan, Holly, Ross—this was his reality.

Arin laughed at the thought. He had too much wine.

As their meal came to an end, and despite Arin’s refusal, Dan picked up the table’s tab, the troupe made their way out into the night. While life still bustled between Arin and Dan, Ross and Holly were too affected by their drinks to proceed.

“We’ll just call a cab,” Holly, the more sober of the two, said as she supported her stumbling husband.

“If it’s Jon picking you up, tell him to keep his mouth shut. I can only imagine what sort of fights a drunken Ross can get into when provoked,” Arin said with a laugh.

“I cun ‘ight my oown battles!” Ross slurred as he swung at the air and nearly fell.

As the taxi came to retrieve them, Dan tucked his hands into the back pockets of his jeans as he cocked a brow at Arin. “Does Jon cause too much trouble?”

“Eh, he’s all right.” Arin shrugged. “Him and Ross get into it constantly. Every time they see each other, all they do is fight.”

“Is that so?” Dan breathed, turning his eyes down the street to watch the taxi depart.

“So, is there anywhere you wanted to go?” Arin asked, eager to keep the night going, fearful to say goodbye.

Beckoned by the question, Dan turned back to him and smiled. “Let’s just see where our feet take us.”

 

***

 

It had been a long time since Arin felt this way.

Down the sidewalks, he and Dan walked, shoulders nearly brushing. Butterflies tumbled in his stomach, forcing up bubbles of delight to swell at his cheeks and seal a permanent smile to his face. Maybe it was just the wine, but… he felt happy. Really, truly happy. Tonight was more than he ever expected it to be.

“—well, yes, I know, but what I’m saying is,” Dan continued to defend himself much to Arin’s entertainment. “If I was given the chance, I would change the ending so Molly Ringwald and Judd Nelson end up together.”

“But that would completely ruin the ending!” Arin fought back with a laugh. “It’s the bittersweet, clandestine love interest that totally makes the ending as iconic as it is.”

“Oh, Arin, jeeze.” Dan rolled his eyes before chirping a laugh. “You just feed off other people’s pain, don’t you?”

“Man, no. I just love a good story and Bender and Claire’s weekend romance made for a good story. Do I secretly want them to be together? Of course! But if they did, the ending would be ruined. I love tragic romance, want to fight about it?”

“Not at all.” Dan smiled. “I like that about you.”

“Oh yeah?” Arin returned the smile, his cheeks darkening. It was because of the wine… right?

A breath filled Dan’s chest, his smile broadening as they shared a glance. Heat overwhelmed Arin, whether it was his own or Dan’s, he was unsure. Suddenly, a twinkling light caught his eye and brought him to look upward to the rolling indigo sky speckled with the glimmer of silver stars.

“Wow,” he breathed. “The sky is beautiful tonight.”

“Yes, it is.”

Arin glanced back to Dan to find him still watching him with that handsome smile. Heat rushed over Arin’s face as the words he wished to say caught in his throat. Hesitantly, Dan moved forward and closed the distance between them. With every step nearer, Arin’s heart grew louder and louder between his ears. Dizzied by the drinks he had, and the emotion coming over him, he leaned into Dan’s embrace.

With fervent eyes, he stared at Dan’s mouth eager to know if the wine still stained his lips. Just before he was able to find out, he felt the cold kiss of rain mist against his face. The shock stilled them for only a moment before they broke out into laughter. As the rain came harder and weighed against their clothes, Dan gripped tight to Arin’s hand and led him out of the downpour. Beneath the cover of a tree, they found shelter from the nearing storm.

“Well, that was unexpected,” Arin said as he leaned against the tree’s damp bark.

“Yes, it was,” Dan answered with a laugh. “We better get out of here before it gets worse.”

As Arin fumbled in his pockets for his phone, he asked, “Do you happen to know the taxi number off the top of your head?”

“No need for that.”

Just before Arin could ask what he meant by that, he saw the glaring flash of headlights pull down the street. Stopping at the curb was a long and dark vehicle. Turning a questioning glance to Dan, Arin caught sight of his offered hand and beaming smile.

“Let’s go back to my place. What do you say?”

The breath caught in Arin’s throat.

Before his words could come, or he could allow reason to sway him different, Arin reached out and accepted Dan’s hand.


	9. The Mansion

The drive to the estate was a blur much like the rain that pattered swift against the windshield. Arin remembered laughing now more than before. Be it from the wine or company, he couldn’t tell. The lone tint of blue lights, dull and soft, breathed from the car’s dashboard and carved against the edges of Dan’s face. Though the rest of the backseat fell captive by the shrouds of shadows, Arin surely felt the warm fingers that slipped against the damp fabric of his jeans. Shivers ran up through his thighs that he knew could not be from the stain of cold rain weighing his clothes. 

Around a bend and past the stretch of leaning trees, the car pulled into the cobbled drive of a mansion tucked securely between the folds of the mountain. The captivation Arin held on Dan was briefly disrupted as he was drawn to the window to gape in awe at the extravagance of the Avidan fortune. 

“Holy shit, dude,” he breathed, words fogging against the window. “You _live_ here?”

“Sometimes,” Dan answered just as soft. “I tend to move place to place when work calls for it.”

When the car stopped just before the stone porch and columns, Dan and Arin once more braced the cool kiss of rain before finding refuge in the broad and embellished halls of the mountain estate. Crossing slow against the marbled floor crafted and carved like an artist’s masterpiece, Arin crept forward and marveled at the decorum lining the long corridors. The same could not be said for Dan who walked forward without giving the room so much as a glance. His hands grabbed at the clinging fabric of his shirt before he worked it up and over the wild coils of his hair. 

Arin watched him, trailing his eyes down the stretch of Dan’s lean body. His mouth felt dry, his lips parched. Should he look away? Could he? 

“I hope you don’t mind,” Dan said as he turned and cast a smile at Arin. “I can’t stand wet clothes.”

“Yeah,” Arin said with a bob of his head as heat crawled over his face. “Y-yeah, me either.” 

“Really? Then follow me.” 

Arin swallowed down the dry patch in his throat as he wordlessly obeyed. Across the extent of the mansion, Dan led Arin forward. They were silent as they walked, though Arin was sure it had something to do with him falling enamored by the beauty of this home and the beauty of its owner. He wasn’t sure how he came to the third floor, but here he was, standing behind Dan and watching as he drew open the door to a vast bedroom. 

“Do you normally give tourists a personal tour?” Arin asked in jest to hopefully still his raging heart. 

“Normally, no,” Dan answered as he led them into the room. “You’re the first.”  
Arin stepped nearer to the woodwork posts of the massive bed. Lining the headboard were a plethora of pillows and blankets. The mere sight of such luxuries brought Arin to feel weary. He only could imagine the peaceful rest he would find if he curled up beneath the comforters. 

“Here, this should fit you.”

Arin turned to watch Dan approach with a set of black silk pajama bottoms and a worn sweatshirt of heather gray. Graciously, he accepted the articles of clothing and unfurled them to gauge their length. “Are you sure I can wear these?”

“Of course,” Dan answered as he began unbuckling his pants. “You said you hate wet clothes, right? No guest of mine is going to be uncomfortable in my home.” 

Arin’s eyes trailed down Dan’s arms and stilled on the hands that worked off the tight fabric of his jeans. He caught sight of the band of the dark blue boxers he wore and fell captivated. He should look away, he knew that, but he couldn’t—or was it, he didn’t want to?

It had been so long since he had been with anyone—Suzy included. Had it been weeks or months now? Arin couldn’t remember. All he knew was how quick his blood was racing and how soon his curiosity wondered what hid beneath Dan’s boxers. 

“If you need some privacy to change,” Dan began before stepping out of his pants and stooping to collect them, “there’s a bathroom down the hall.” 

“Oh—uh, no, I’m cool, man.” Arin let off a laugh before working off the sleeves of his jacket. He was thankful the bedroom was as dim as it was, better to hide his growing blush. “Do you… live here alone?”

“For the most part, yeah. Some family drops in from time to time, but usually it’s just me.”  
  
“You got to be lonely being in this huge ass place all by yourself, right? I mean, I wouldn’t even know what to do with myself.”

“The town keeps me busy,” Dan answered with a smile. “And I’ve got you, don’t I?”

“Of course.” Arin pulled over his head the warmth of his borrowed sweatshirt. “I mean, until I go home.”

“When do you leave?” Dan asked softly. 

“A few days, I think. My friend, Barry, is supposed to come up and get me.”   
Arin cast Dan a look to see the edges of his lips fall into a thoughtful frown. Despite how short their time together was, he felt his heartstrings tug at the sight of such sadness overcoming this estate’s caring host.

“What would it take,” Dan began in a breath, “to convince you to stay?” 

Arin let off a laugh, a lighthearted gesture to compete well with the pounding heart raging in his chest. “I can’t stay, Dan. I have a job back in Los Angeles, I have a life. Yeah, sure, it sucks—but I have to go back.” 

The answer was not one his companion wanted to hear, Arin knew that, as Dan quieted and his countenance softened. As Dan bit into his lips in thought, a hand rose to course through the coils of his hair. “I guess all I can give you is good memories then. Come on, I want to show you something.”

Warily, Arin watched as Dan made his way to the hallway. “You’re not going to take me to some creepy, sex dungeon, are you?”

Dan twittered with laughter before glancing back. “Arin, shut up. You know that my sex dungeon is at the end of the tour.” 

 

***

 

Further into the mansion, Arin was led. 

They spoke light, joked often, over anything and everything that came to mind. For a time, it seemed as if the moment of sadness was just as brief as these cheery conversations they now had. Down a small staircase, Arin followed Dan into the living room. Long, white rugs stretched across the floor before a curved and cushioned, white couch. With a skip and hop, Arin flopped down on the couch and bounced. A smile pulled at the corners of his lips as he looked up to see Dan smiling down on him. 

“I feel bad that I promised you a movie tonight and didn’t deliver,” Dan said as he approached an ottoman and drew out a large blanket from its depths. 

“Dude, you don’t need to apologize. Tonight was a lot of fun. Dinner was awesome, Ross was behaving himself—as far as dates go, this is probably one of my favorites.” 

“Really?” Dan neared Arin and drew out the blanket to lay over him. “I’m happy to hear that, Arin.”

Beneath the warmth of the blanket, Arin shifted and nestled further into the couch. “Trust me, Dan—if I wasn’t having fun, you would know. Besides, it’s nice to get out of the cabin. So stop worrying over what I think, okay? You’ve done more than enough for me.” 

“I still have a few things up my sleeve,” Dan said as he rounded the couch. “So get comfy and remember that I am a man of my word.” 

“Jeeze-la-wheeze, Dan, you don’t need to impress me.” Arin rolled his eyes, his smile broadening. 

Before the couch, mounted high on the wall, a stretch of white lowered silently down. With a curious eye, Arin watched it before coming to realize just what it was. He planted an elbow on the couch and turned to Dan who stood over a laptop nearby. With careful fingers, he plucked a disc out from a DVD sleeve before sliding it into the disc tray. 

“ _Really_ , Dan?” 

“Arin, shush… the movie’s about to start.” 

The smile Arin had ever broadened as he turned back to the projector to see the title screen of ‘Breakfast Club’. His chest felt light, filled with happiness and delight. He couldn’t remember the last time someone did something this sweet for him. Dan joined him on the couch and slid beneath the cover of the blanket, closing the distance between them. 

Even as the movie began, Arin tried to focus himself on the characters he had fallen in love with so many years ago, but all he could notice was how close Dan was, how warm he was, and the soft sound of him drawing in slow and deep breaths. His heart was alive and pounding. If it were any louder, he was certain that Dan would hear it. Slowly, maybe too slow to notice at first, Arin and Dan drew closer and closer. Their touch was gentle, deliberate, and welcomed. Casting aside inhibitions, rather from exhaustion or the need for intimacy, Arin settled down on the couch and cuddled against Dan, resting his head against the bend of his chest. 

There was no need for words at this point, their actions were enough. Listening to the steady sound of Dan’s breaths, Arin fell further and further into a peaceful rest until his eyes closed and he began the descent into sleep. 

Fingers stroked through his hair, lovingly and tender, lulling him.

“What will it take,” Dan asked in a breath that echoed against Arin’s weary mind, “for me to keep you?”

Arin grew heavier, so unable to stay awake, but he felt the need to answer. 

“You can’t,” he mumbled against the warmth of Dan’s chest. 

“But I want to.” 

Arin drew in a breath and caught the soft scent of Dan’s cologne. It was a sweet smell, and for some reason, he felt tears build at the corners of his eyes. 

“I wish you could,” Arin gently confessed.

With that, Arin fell asleep in Dan’s arms. 

 

***

 

He forgot how many times he had played this game. 

Too many to count, at this point. 

Faces rushed by his thoughts, of those who lost the game these years prior, of all the souls that fell lost on his stage, but none of that mattered now. As Dan stroked his fingers through the soft lengths of Arin’s hair, all he could think about was this moment, this man. Somewhere along the timeline of tonight, the game changed. It was not because of him, not because of Dark—but because of Arin. 

Dan frowned. 

Against his side, he felt the push and pull of Arin’s heart. It sang to him in a much sweeter tune than he could refuse, that he could deny. 

He would change the world, change the game for him, he would. 

If it meant keeping him, he would do it. 

“What will it take for me to keep you?” Dan’s words rushed through his lips like a gasp, unanticipated, fearful.

“You can’t.”

Pain twisted in Dan’s chest, anger, sadness… he should have known. 

“But I want to,” he whispered down against the dark hair he admired so. 

He felt Arin take in a breath, he relished the sound. Why did it have to be him? No matter how hard he tried, he could not change the way he felt. He knew so little about Arin, but he needed more. He wanted to know everything there was about him. He wanted him to be there every morning and night. If it took changing the world to bring them together, he’d do it. 

“I wish you could.”

The breath held in Dan’s throat. The world fell still. 

He felt happy, truly happy. Was that even possible? Could that be a feeling he could have? Before the thought could come to him, the happiness that swelled in his chest churned and soured to bittersweet longing. Dan’s head fell, much like the corners of his mouth turned to frown, as he placed his lips against the warmth of Arin’s forehead in thought. 

With the sound of rain patter on the windows, and his thoughts weighted by the worries and feelings he had for the man laid against him, Dan would remain until morning, lost to his own demons.


	10. The Rain

When Arin awoke it was still raining. 

He heard the patter soft against the window, trickling and tinkling against the glass to pull him sweetly from the deep and restful sleep he found on Dan’s couch. His shoulders shifted and pulled the blanket further across him as he took a moment longer to enjoy the dip of the couch he had rolled into. As his thoughts slowly returned to him and his mind no longer fell burdened by the foggy veil of sleepiness, he recalled clearly just where he was. 

Lifting up from beneath the blanket’s weight, Arin sat up and peered across the living room. He heard the soft chime of music flutter out from the speakers as the movie they had been watching cycled back to the title screen. All was as it should be, except Dan was no longer fast at Arin’s side. The creeping tension of loneliness swept over Arin’s chest, but it did not stay long as he caught sight of a note sitting alone atop the glass coffee table. With a curious hand, he plucked up the note and narrowed his blurry eyes on the writing scrawled across the paper. 

_Arin,  
_

_I’m sorry I couldn’t be there when you woke up.  
_

_There’s a lot of work that needs done.  
_

_I’ve already paid the taxi service to take you back to your cabin, but feel free to stay as long as you want at the estate. What’s mine is yours.  
_

_Thank you for an amazing night, I hope we can see each other again soon._

Skimming over the words, again and again, Arin found his brow lowering curiously over his eyes. 

This handwriting was familiar.

Where had he seen it before?

The thought troubled him for a while. Even when he had found the clothing he had worn the previous night, cleaned and folded on the table sitting out in the main corridor, Arin chewed into the corner of his mouth as he tried to figure out why Dan’s handwriting was so familiar to him. Eventually, whether it be from frustration or sense, he abandoned the futile search for an answer and decided it was time he left. 

Dressed in his own clothing, Arin called up the taxi service and waited by the door. His eyes trailed the columns lining the drive and, to pass the time, he counted the raindrops that splashed down in the puddles collecting between the cracks of cobblestone. For the briefest of moments, his thoughts turned back to the events of the previous night and the feelings that overcame him in the company of Dan Avidan. 

Arin sighed. 

He was stupid to think their date was a good idea. 

No matter what happened, he would still be leaving at the end of the week. 

He tried to rationalize his choices, to tiptoe on the optimistic side of life only to find he didn’t have the strength for that. Arin was a few hundred miles from Los Angeles and Dan was a busy man. Even if he wanted to continue… whatever this was… it would never work. 

Wrought with his natural pessimism and the heaviness of regret and the dismal scene of grey skies and rain, Arin felt heavier than he had ever been. Only at the sight of a sleek, yellow taxi, did he brighten—but only barely. 

Exiting the estate, Arin pulled tight his jacket over his chest and braced the rainfall. With a quick hand, he pulled open the back door and leapt into the dusty backseat. As he settled into his seat and the taxi began to pull away, Arin recognized the dark hair and beard of his cabby. 

“Oh, hey, Jon,” Arin said as he slicked his fingers through the damp length of his hair. “Jeeze, do you ever have a day off?”

Jon remained silent. 

A curious laugh bubbled up in Arin’s throat as he eyed the quiet cabby. 

Leaning forward, he gripped into the back of the passenger seat and tried again. 

“Long night, huh? I hope Ross didn’t give you any trouble. He was pretty trashed last night. I don’t smell any vomit, so that’s good, right?”

Silence. 

On the back of Arin’s tongue settled the taste of uneasiness. His grip loosened on the seat as he sat back and endured the sound of window wipers squealing against the windshield and the pitter patter of raindrops. Rolling together his lips in thought, Arin sorted through the chaos between his ears before lifting his eyes up to see Jon’s face in the rearview mirror. 

“… did… Dan talk to you at all? About anything that I might have said last night?”

Jon nodded.

“Shit, man.” Arin slumped. “Look, I don’t know what he told you—I mean, I can kinda guess, but… I’m sorry if what I said about you and Ross fighting made you upset at all. I hope you didn’t get in any trouble because of me.”

Jon shook his head.

“… are you okay?” Arin pushed. “If something’s going on, man, you can talk to me.”

Jon shook his head. 

“…’no, you aren’t okay’, or ‘no, you won’t talk to me’?”

There was no response this time, no head nod or shake, just silence. It was an uncomfortable silence, but more than that, it was eerie. It was like something had happened while he was asleep and he was the last one to find out. It was the feeling you get before receiving a phone call where you find out you lost your job, but this was worse. Arin drummed his fingers against the denim of his jeans until he reached a point that he could no longer handle the thick, tensed silence. 

“Pull over,” Arin demanded. 

Jon glanced up into the mirror, staring back at him.

“I said pull over.” Arin echoed, voice rising. 

Jon’s eyes lowered, glossed and heavy with thought before he slowly obeyed. Against the curb of the town’s sidewalk, the taxi pulled to a stop. The constant patter of rain and squeal of wipers mocked Arin. His stomach twisted anxiously. He didn’t know what he did wrong, why he deserved to be given the silent treatment, but he would find out. 

Gripping onto the seats, Arin lifted his legs to rest on the console. With a heave, he pulled himself to the passenger seat cluttered with crinkled receipts and empty candy wrappers. Now that the distance between them was closed, Arin gave Jon an unyielding stare.

“Jon,” he began low, “what’s wrong?”

Breaths puffed out Jon’s chest as he stared back at Arin with pleading eyes. His lips were taut and pursed, refusing to release the words that Arin knew lingered on his tongue.

“Buddy, you can talk to me, all right? If I can help, I want to help. Is it something with the bar? Did something happen while you were gone?”

Slowly, Jon shook his head.

“Then what?” Arin pressed. “Dude, seriously—you’re starting to freak me out. What happened? Is everyone okay? Did… did something happen to Dan?” 

Jon turned away. 

“Please, Jon, you can—”

“… _leave_.” 

The air staled, tensed and bitter, as confusion brought Arin’s brow to lower warily over his eyes. His heart grew heavier as it weighed in his chest like the fear that hung from the corners of his mouth. Shifting his eyes back and forth in the cab, Arin tried to make sense of the word before quietly asking, “What?” 

Jon’s glossed gaze returned to Arin. Unknown horrors paled in his eyes as his lips slowly parted to release more words. Before that time could come, the sight of silver caught Arin’s eye and soon filled him with dread. Running through Jon’s gums, a metal wire wove between his teeth, sewing his mouth shut. 

“ _Leave_ ,” Jon hissed through his teeth. With a broken voice, he begged, “Arin, _leave_.”

The sight of the wire, cutting through flesh, tight and constricted, forcing shut teeth, forcing silence, brought Arin’s heart to leap into his throat. There were no words to say now, no pleas to end the silence. Sickness churned in his stomach, mixing and blending with the fear that wove through his veins. His weight tumbled out of the taxi, his back hit the wet pavement. Terrified, or forced, he withdrew from Jon and the cab. Rain pelted his jacket, clung at his hair, but he couldn’t feel it, couldn’t see it.

All Arin could see was the wire. 

Propelled by fear, or something of that sort, Arin rushed down the sidewalk. He looked for help, for himself, for Jon. He tried to make sense of what he saw, what he felt. Was this a nightmare? Was he still fast asleep on Dan’s couch? He had to be. This couldn’t be real. It couldn’t. 

As he came to round the corner where the main strip of stores and restaurants nestled against the street side, paved in bricks, Arin saw people out standing on the street. 

“I need help,” he called to them, rushing forward. “Please—Jon, t-the taxi driver—something happened to him. Please, you need to call someone. Jesus, fuck—please—you need to—”

Arin’s breaths panted out from his lips, coiling into a mist that fell disrupted only by the fall of rain. His eyes shifted furiously across the face of the man he approached who stood on the sidewalk, completely still, staring off into space, drenched by the rain.

“Hello?” Arin tried again. “Are you even listening to me?” 

No response. 

Arin turned to the next stranger on the street who stood in the same trance that befell the first man. 

“Please, he needs help. Something happened—something bad.” 

He continued onward through the crowd, searching for a person that could hear him. He looked to the faces surrounding him. He was met with blank stares and soulless eyes. These were the faces he recalled seeing the first day he came down to the town. There were smiles then and happy greetings. Now there was nothing but silence and the rain.

“Anyone,” Arin weakly begged, “can anyone hear me?” 

Rain. 

Shivering, from the cold and the horror of what silent plague befell the town, Arin continued onward. There came a time when he no longer tried to gain the attention of the men and women frozen still on the sidewalk. He needed to find Ross and Holly. He needed to find out what happened to this town. 

Left only with his resolve to find answers, Arin turned to the mountain’s peak and winding road and began his ascent. 

 

***

 

The rain never stopped. 

No matter how far up he climbed on the road, the rain never stopped. 

Ache seized at the muscles in his calves, his feet were sore and tender as up and up he climbed. He no longer felt the cold rain, no longer felt anything. As the hours passed and Arin eventually caught sight of the gate to the mountain retreat, he thought well over what he would do. 

He would find Ross and Holly first. If something happened to them, he would go find Mark. Someone on this mountain must know what was going on.   
Trudging down the cedar trail, Arin slowed as his shoes slipped and sunk into the mess of mud and wood chips beneath him. By the time he came to the Conrad cabin, the sky was growing darker with storm clouds. First, he tried the front door. Against the wood, he banged his knuckles until his skin tore. 

“Ross,” he bellowed in the strongest voice he could conjure, “Holly, are you guys home?”

Arin’s breaths panted as he waited. 

To his dismay, there was no response. 

Reluctant to give in, he bound off the porch and rounded the cabin. He thought of seeing the many fluffed feathers of the owls and pigeons sitting in Holly’s trees. He thought of the music stand and the chirping tune of birds. As he entered the backyard, he found the trees barren, the music stand gone. 

Approaching the back door, Arin tried again. 

“Hello? Are you home? Please, if you can hear me, say something.” Rain and terror hung from Arin’s face. “Ross, if this is some kind of joke, it isn’t funny. Please, just… say something.” 

The breaths he panted turned choppy and weak as he felt sobs bubble up through his throat. 

This was a nightmare, he told himself, it was a nightmare and he would wake up soon.

“I’m… going to Mark’s cabin,” Arin called out. “If you… if you guys can hear me—please, meet me over there.” 

Hesitantly, Arin withdrew from the Conrad cabin. His thoughts unraveled, much like his sanity. He scarcely remembered trekking further through the woodland trails, but here he was, marching a silent and lone way, begging himself to wake up. As he came to cross before the Kramer cabin, he stopped. 

His eyes lifted to the dark shutters and the woodwork front door. There was familiarity behind its face, there was security and warmth. With a final glance to the labyrinth beyond the tree line, Arin quickly strode up the porch steps and entered his borrowed cabin. 

With his back against the door, he slowly slumped to the floor and began to cry. 

 

***

 

“ ** _You need to get here as soon as possible. I want to go home. Now._** ” 

Arin sent Barry that text three hours ago. 

And for three hours, Arin stared at the text, waiting.

He sat in the center of the couch, dressed in clean, dry clothes. His thumbs drummed against the side of his phone as he tried to calm himself, but found it much easier said than done. When he found waiting to be worthless, Arin arose from his seat and made rounds about the cabin. He checked the windows to make certain they were closed and locked. He checked the doors. He checked the lights. He checked the food and water. 

In the cabin, he was safe. 

He just needed to wait for Barry. 

Arin returned to the couch and sat down. With a deep breath, he lifted his hands and slicked his trembling fingers through the length of his hair. He banished the thought of the silver wire from his head, he forced out the silence and the sound of the rain by playing ringtones on his phone. He just needed to hear something, anything that wasn’t rain. 

Just when he was about to give in to the insanity surrounding him, he felt vibrations shoot through his hands, forcing him to nearly toss his phone in fright. 

Scrambling, he seized the phone and swiped it open.

Barry.

“ **I’m almost there, I’ll see you soon.** ”

Arin released a deep sigh of relief. 

Suddenly, a knock came from the door. 

Bounding to life, Arin raced for the door. 

A laugh trembled in his throat and tears burned in his eyes as he felt such happiness at the thought of seeing Barry, at the thought of no longer being alone. 

Without hesitation or fear, Arin pulled open the door. 

Standing out in the downpour, surrounded by the cool darkness that began to set in, was the masked stranger with piercing eyes. 

“We need to talk,” the man growled before forcing his way into the cabin.


	11. The Stranger

As the stranger pushed his way into the foyer, easily shoving the startled Arin out of his way, he hastily scouted forward, eyes searching and glittering with the light of lunacy. Disoriented and tossed rather carelessly to the throes of chaos that befell the quiet mountain of Whisper Hollow, Arin followed after, both terrified and happy to see he was no longer alone. 

“Who are you?” Arin asked once he found the weight of his voice, though it came much weaker and softer than he intended. 

There was no response for him as the stranger strode across the length of the cabin, drawing curtains shut and flicking off the lights. As darkness crept further and further from the corners to swallow Arin’s vision, his skin became weighted and riddled with the drench of anxious sweat. Should he run, he wondered quick to himself, or should he stay inside the safety of his cabin? Was it truly safe anymore? His thoughts were rattled and churning in his head like the sickness that soon began to overwhelm his chest and grip tight at his stomach. 

Through the dimness and shades, Arin caught a glimpse of the stranger cutting through the dark, storming closer and closer. 

“I told you to leave.”

“—look, man, I don’t know who the fuck you are, but _you_ need to leave,” Arin struggled to say before the stranger caught at his coat and drew him nearer. 

“Do you think this is a fucking game?” the stranger snarled. “You have no idea what’s going on, do you? You don’t even know where you are.”

“Uh, yes, I do,” Arin shot back, trying to appear much more courageous than he felt. “This is my cabin and you are trespassing. You need to leave.” 

A laugh barked out of the stranger’s mouth before he pushed Arin off. His hands rose and coursed over the dark material wrapped about his face. 

Fingers rubbed against the fabric, digging deep and frustrated before working off the mask that concealed his face. Time and countless scowls creased lines beneath his eyes and beside his lips. His hair, peppered and dark, fell damp against his forehead as he shifted his paranoid gaze across the room. 

“You probably think this world is a dream come true,” the stranger began with a low laugh. “You’re just as stupid as everyone else, aren’t you?”

“What are you even talking about?” Arin demanded, lost somewhere between fleeing the cabin and staying to find answers. 

“It nearly looks real, doesn’t it? It’s worked hard to keep up appearances, but it’s starting to crack. I don’t know what you did to him, I almost don’t even care, but now you know, don’t you? You’ve seen it firsthand.”

“Seen _what_?” Arin pushed, loudly, feeling more confused with every ounce of word vomit spewing from the stranger’s lips. 

“The _puppets_!” the stranger barked. “The fucking monsters he created from idiots like you!” 

“Look, pal, I don’t know what asylum you escaped from, but I think it’s about time you check back in,” Arin said as he rounded the stranger, eager to put distance between them. “My friend is about to get here and I’m pretty sure he’s not going to be too excited to see some crazy ass dude holed up in his cabin.”

The stranger listened to Arin’s threats, lips curling into a smile with every word that he spoke. His arms lifted and folded across his chest as he heaved a breath. “He’s coming _here_? To this cabin?” 

“Uh, yeah? This is his place. Look, I’ve been through enough tonight, so, please, just leave. Don’t make me call up the warden and have him come out here.” 

“A warden, huh?” the stranger lowly asked. “That’s a new one for him. To the last couple he was a state trooper. The ones before them, he was a mayor. Before them, a hiking guide. For me, he was a pretty convincing local hunter. He’s clinging to his old life, he tries so hard to be like he was, but he’s only a monster now. Just like _him_.”

Arin backed away, inching closer and closer to the door. He felt needles prick through his skin, drawing him to linger on the verge of complete panic as he considered darting out into the veil of rain beyond his door just to escape the mad ramblings of this crazed stranger. Would he chase after him? Could Arin escape him even if he tried?

“—you can’t trust them,” the stranger hissed before Arin could decide a course of action. “Whatever they told you, whatever they have done for you, it’s all a trap. They want you to stay here, just like everyone else. They feed off you, draining a little bit at a time, leaving you weak. When you give in, and give them everything, that’s when they take your heart.”

Arin’s voice caught in his throat, clutched in the hand of fear as he could not find the words to say. Suddenly, he felt vibrations against his leg that nearly sent him into a fit. He controlled his breaths and grit his teeth to steady himself, to appear as calm as he needed to be for this paranoid psycho. With a careful hand, he reached into his pocket and dug out his phone.

Barry.

“ **I’m nearly there**.”

Arin swallowed down the words, composing himself.

“You know what the worst part of this is?” the stranger asked. “I’m basically throwing myself at you, trying to get you out of here before you become like them—but you’re not even _listening_!”

“I-I’m listening,” Arin contested, lifting his gaze to meet the piercing glare that bore into him. “You’re just… this is…” 

He needed to buy time. 

Once Barry got here, he could leave. 

He could sprint for the taxi, the stranger would never catch him.

He’d go home.

“… this is… hard to stomach, is all.”

The stranger nodded in agreement before beginning to pace before the fireplace left vacant of firewood, of warmth. “Yes, it is. It’s crazy. It seems unreal, but it’s not. I’ve been following them for years. After they took my…” 

He fell silent. 

“… it doesn’t matter,” he finished, softly. “I’m so close now. With them at war with each other, it’s the perfect time to strike.”

“Y-yeah,” Arin breathed as sweat beaded against his forehead. “I… know what you mean.”

“Do you?” the stranger asked, tossing a glance at Arin before continuing his pacing. “Of course you do. I’ve been patient, haven’t I? I’ve been careful. I have to do this. I’m the only one who can… but I need you. Bait for the beasts. You’re all they want anymore, all they fight over. It’s the least you can do to rid this mountain of their curse.” 

“Curse?” Arin echoed, inching toward the door. 

“It’s the only way. To stop the murders, to stop the disappearances. All the locals are gone now. Terrified of what happened here. I can’t leave until I make those bastards pay for what they did to my wife… my Audrey.” 

“What do you mean the locals are gone? I just saw them all down in the town.”

“—you’re not listening!” the stranger barked, forcing Arin to withdraw. 

Vibrations. 

Barry was here. 

No longer could Arin sit passive and listen to the lunacy spewing out in muddled noise from the stranger’s mouth. No longer could he buy time as the tension between them became taut and he wasn’t about to find out what happened when this psycho snapped. 

Suddenly, Arin caught the stranger watching him, intently, deciphering his movements and each bead of sweat that now glistened against his forehead. 

The piercing blue gaze narrowed on him, bore into him. 

Before Arin could close the distance between he and the door, his phone came to life with a jingling tune. He froze.

“Answer it,” the stranger demanded.

Swallowing down the lump that was building in his throat, Arin slipped the weight of his phone out from the comfort of his pocket and looked down on the lit up screen. His thumb swiped against the call button before he lifted it up to his ear and listened. 

“ _Uh, where are you_?” Barry’s voice crackled against the speaker. 

Arin’s brow furrowed. 

“I’m… in the cabin.” 

“ _You sure about that? Because… I just walked into the cabin and… you’re not here_.” 

Arin’s heart plummeted into his stomach. A cold sweat began to build on his skin.

His eyes flickered up to stare at the stranger who gave him a crooked smile.

“— _are you like, in one of the backrooms_?—”

“Barry—no, I’m… I’m in the living room, right by the front door. I-If you came in, I would have known. Are you… are you sure you’re in the right cabin?”

“ _Arin, are you sure you’re in the right cabin? I used to come up here as a kid all the time. I know this place like the back of my hand_.”

“Well, it—you’ve got to be making a mistake, I’ve been here all week—I just…”

Before Arin could finish his panicked train of thought, the phone he pressed harsh to his ear was jerked away, and with it, his attention turned to the stranger who carelessly chucked the phone across the room. Plastic and glass shattered, forcing a yelp of shock to split through Arin’s lips.

“We’ve played this game long enough,” the stranger snarled. “It’s time to end this.”

Arin backed away until his shoulders struck against the woodwork of the wall. “Look—I don’t know what’s going on, I just— _please_ , stay away.”

Despite his protests, the fierce-eyed man would not listen.

Arin’s chest heaved as he drew in short and choppy breaths at the stranger’s determined and swift approach. He did not know what this man had planned for him and he was not eager to find out. With nerves strained, thoughts rushing and pounding like war drums between his ears, Arin grabbed at the nearest item he could and bashed it down atop the stranger’s head. 

Unfortunately for him, it was a rather weighty and sharp vase. 

As the glass shrieked and shattered, and the man stumbled back with curses hot on his lips, Arin stole to the door and bolted out into the silver curtains of pouring rain. 

He did not know where it was he intended to go, but knew that from now on it was going to be a fight for survival.


	12. The Puppets

The rain pelted against Arin’s shoulders, slowing him, mocking his attempt at an escape. The only sound that filled his ears was the hiss of rain against his cheeks and the fervent heart he carried that bound up into his throat. He felt the heat of footsteps behind him, the cool of eyes pierce through his back.

Despite the ache and exhaustion that wrought him, he pushed forward.

When muck and mud swallowed at his shoes, eager to prevent him from evading the psychotic stranger that trailed him, Arin cut swift through the break of trees left leaning over the curved trails. Through the shrouds of darkness, he ran blind. Branches swept across his face, splitting skin, drawing the warmth of blood to mix with the cool patter of rain. In this world left desolate, Arin clung tight to the belief that he was not alone. Someone must be lurking just out of his sight, someone he could trust.

Wrapped so wholly in this belief, Arin followed the trail back toward the Conrad cabin. He would try again. If they did not answer him, he would break down their door and barricade himself inside. He would do whatever it took to survive.

As he approached the towering, white birches that lined the perimeter of the Conrad cabin, Arin heard a soft melody flutter through the trees that secured his hope. At least, for a moment. As closer and closer he came to the backyard of Ross and Holly’s cabin, Arin realized the once whimsical and sweet tune sang by the avian concert became out of tune, out of sync,  and slowed—just like Arin who now hesitated.

His breaths heaved, in and out, in and out. He knew not if the stranger followed him this far, to be honest, he was too frightened to turn back. All that there was for him to do was continue forward toward the eerie song that reverberated between the raindrops around him. A crack of light split over the canopies, illuminating the wicked hands of the branches above.

Arin’s dark hair clung to the edges of his jaw as he proceeded past the side of the cabin and stepped into view of the backyard. Perched above on the many branches of the many bushes and trees were the stoic forms of owls. The rain did not bother them, did not awaken them from their stillness. Before their immobility could unnerve Arin, he heard the squishing of damp meat and the snap of beaks.

Turning his gaze down to where all the trees rooted, Arin saw Ross.

Black birds crowded his body left flayed. The once beautiful work of cobblestone that spanned the gardens now ran red as the birds feasted and tore into the carcass left out before them.

A cry curdled in Arin’s throat as he stumbled back in disbelief.

Before he could flee, a voice called out to him.

“Have you come for the concert?” Holly called in a wispy breath from behind the music stand.

Her body was twisted, unnaturally so. A dark stain ran down her arms and dripped off onto the sheet music opened before her.

Arin’s throat felt tight, unable to allow words to pass. At his silence, Holly turned with a smile pulled across her lips.

“We’ve been practicing… I told Ross we could do it. He didn’t believe me. He never believed in me.”

Holly turned back to her owls that looked down on her with hollow, black eyes.

“You don’t believe me either, do you?” Holly continued with an airy breath. “You’re just like Ross.”

The owls’ heads slowly turned for their wide, dark eyes to gape down at Arin who stood petrified beneath their stares.

“Holly,” Arin faintly whispered, begging. “What happened to you?”

“It was so late when he came home,” Holly answered, her voice distant, her mind gone. “There was a way to make all the problems go away. He said he’d make it all go away. We believed him.”

The owls’ faces split into dark maws. From the abyss of their gullet, teeth jutted from the darkness like needles.

“It was a small price to pay,” Holly said. “So small a favor.”

“Holly,” Arin begged with tears filling his eyes.

“Stay with us, Arin. We can be together forever. Just like he wanted.”

Beneath the weight of silver and black feathers came twisted and long limbs. Talons clawed against wood as the perched monsters descended like spiders, eyes fastened swift to Arin.

“It hurts only for a second,” Holly breathed. “… and then… perfection.”

As the monsters clawed against bark and mud, a shriek, deafening and deep curled out between jagged teeth, forcing life back into Arin. He scrambled and shifted in the throes of blackness left gripping at his sides. The cackle of the owls followed him, chased him through the night as he sprinted away. His muscles were strained, his body pushing its limits.

This was a nightmare, he told himself. He would wake up soon. He had to wake up soon.

Talons gripped at the fabric of his jeans, clawing and scratching as one of the monsters crawled up his leg, flashing its teeth in a wicked grin. A yelp of fear shot out from Arin’s lips as he tumbled against the mud and leaves. Like knives, the talons swept against him, clawing at his chest, digging against fabric, then skin, then bone. Filled with horror and pain, Arin cried out before latching onto the monster and tossing it off. He scrambled to his feet, sprinted faster.

Against the trails, he ran, aimless and yet destined.

There was only one place left.

One place that he could be safe.

The howls of the beasts behind him fell distant, but that did not reassure him.

Swiftly, he bound up the stairs of the warden’s cabin and pound a fist against the door.

“Mark!” Arin called out, voice trembling. “Mark, open the door! Please, open the door!”

Again, he pounded his fist, relentless, frightened.

As his knuckles came against the wooden planks once more, the weight of the door gave way and opened to show the darkness beyond. Arin hesitated at the threshold, weighted by the cool rain and rampant fear. His eyes strained in the dimness as he made his way into the cabin, searching for the familiarity of the man he trusted, the man that could explain what was going on, that could promise him that it would be all right.

Before Arin could find such a man, he came to an unsettling realization.

There was no furniture in this cabin.

The bookshelves were gone, as were the books. The couch and the coffee table were nowhere in sight. The decorations that once graced the walls were gone and all that was left was the strung silver of cobwebs littered with the burden of dust. Arin crept further still, torn between horror and confusion. A breath of light flashed against the windows as lightning growled above in the combating clouds. At the flash, silhouettes drew across the floor. One for Arin who stood petrified at the foyer, and one for the man who stood behind him.

Arin stilled.

His heart pounded against his tongue as he came to turn and face the owner of the cabin.

“Mark,” Arin breathed, near to tears.

Stoic and still, just as the owls were, just as Holly was, Mark stood in the threshold of the cabin with eyes cold and dark, latched onto Arin. There was no emotion on his face, no telltale signs of life beside the soft rise and fall of his chest as he took breath after breath. Perhaps if tonight had been different, Arin would rush to him. He would embrace him and thank whatever deity it was that he was all right, but something felt different. A tension strung through the air, lighting it like static, forcing Arin to withdraw further into the cabin.

“I’m so sorry, Arin. I truly am,” Mark said in a low rumble. “I was afraid this would happen. I had the feeling the night I first saw you. I knew you’d become his favorite. At first, I was jealous. For so long, I was his favorite toy. I was compliant, I obeyed him. He didn’t have to hide what he was from me, I accepted it. I sought him out, I wanted to be like him. No, that’s not what I felt that night. I want you. All of you.”

“Mark, what are you talking about?” Arin weakly asked, further retreating from the silhouette of the still warden.

“He’s slacking, can’t you see? His reign is at its end. We could have this world, Arin. The two of us. You could be like me. You’re a creator, you could make this world worthy of us. I’m tired of hiding in the woods—”

Mark made a slow approach.

“—I’m tired of playing pet to him, but you—I could be your pet, Arin. Or maybe… you could be mine.”

“Mark, this isn’t like you,” Arin argued until his back met the cool brick of the fireplace. “Please, tell me what’s going on?”

“I’m offering you the chance of a lifetime,” Mark answered, low. “I’m offering you a world. All we need to do is take it from him.”

“Mark—please,” Arin begged. “Listen to yourself. This isn’t you. You—you sound insane—just listen to yourself! The Mark I know, the one that saved me from the woods, the one that was there for me—this isn’t him.”

“You’re right, but he’s not here anymore. It’s just us now. Me and you. Like it should be.”

Mark came closer, his eyes dark and fixated on Arin.

“Look, I don’t know what you want, but you’re not going to find it with me. Whatever you think you’re doing, whatever this is—it’s wrong. Mark, you’re a game warden. You’re an officer, you’re a good man.”

“Good man,” Mark echoed, a deep laugh rumbling in his chest. “Not even that… anymore.”

His skin began to pale and through his veins ran the dark tendrils of black that coursed and filled him. His eyes, once warm and brown like the woodland realm he frequented, became black and hollow, like the owls.

“The game is over, Arin. You lose.”

Through his broadening grin came the jagged pierce of gleaming teeth. A silver light ran through the black of his eyes. Before Arin could respond to the beast that lurked before him, a breathing fog of sweeping black smoke enveloped and swallowed at Mark’s body. When he returned from the fog, he was no longer the man Arin knew.

Standing between Arin and the only exit in the cabin was a wolf, large and black, that had the gleam of hunger coursing through its silver eyes.


	13. The Hunter and Prey

There was only a split second, a moment of reprieve from the chaos, a still photo of the desolate cabin, the cobwebs, the wolf, before the floodgates of hell opened.

Paws, heavy and black, tore across the planks as the wolf’s wide jaw opened wide and snapped with vicious barks and hungry teeth. Arin fled. His body shifted and spun as he ducked beneath the jaws of the monster that lusted for his blood. A cry of fear split through Arin’s mouth, rising like sickness through his mouth and spilling out, tainted by the darkest depths of his nightmares. He evaded the wolf once, but it was much faster than him.

A futile chase, the ultimate predator and the vulnerable prey. 

Still, Arin begged for Mark to return, begging—pleading to whatever deity there was, if there even was one, to make all these nightmares go away. 

“Mark, please,” Arin cried out when he fell down against the boards, forcing a cloud of dust to rise and dance about his head like a halo. “You’re not a monster, Mark. Please, please, don’t do this.”

The wolf approached with measured steps, its piercing and eerie gaze fixated on Arin. Soulless eyes, apathetic. 

Suddenly, the world shuddered and groaned. The wooden planks of the cabin shifted and brought cobwebs to fall and dust to stream down like rain. The wolf lifted its head, trailed its eyes across the walls as if sensing something wrong. 

Arin nearly felt the curiosity to follow its movements, to consider what could have shaken the earth and frightened the wolf, but this was his only opportunity. With the beast’s attention no longer fixed on him, Arin scrambled to his feet and sprinted to the rain beyond the cabin door.

A howl lashed out behind him, striking his back with the force of a malevolent gale, forcing cold shivers to course through his veins and bring him to a near standstill. The breath he held behind his lips failed him as he became petrified at the haunting sound of anger and sadness riding on the back of the otherworldly howling. The cabin floor trembled in fear with the thunderous roar of claws tearing across wood in pursuit of Arin. 

He turned, slow and fated, and watched as the wolf barreled through the threshold of the cabin and bound off the steps, destined to collide with him, to devour him.

Like a shot of lightning, precise and quick, a bolt shot out through the silver torrent of rainfall and struck the wolf. Its body contorted and it missed its mark, falling idly by the side. With this moment free of the mesmerizing howl, Arin hesitantly retreated from the fallen wolf. As lightning breathed through the slate clouds hanging over his head, the second of luminosity was enough for him to see the shaft of an arrow jutting out from the wolf’s shoulder.

“Get back,” the masked stranger snarled as he crept out from the shades and mysteries of the woodland underbrush. Held tight in his hands was the dark length of a crossbow.

At the command, Arin immediately leapt to action and put distance between he and the wolf now rising from the damp stalks of grass. The air between the beast and hunter became weighted with tension as their piercing gazes clashed beneath the flash of lightning and the growls of thunder. Each move was intended and precise as Arin watched these two titans of this nightmare circle one another, searching for weakness. Though the arrow dug deep into the black fur of the wolf’s shoulder, it hardly seemed slowed by the injury. 

“Turn tail and run, coward,” the stranger hissed as he rose up the crossbow and aimed, eager to pull the trigger. “I’ll skin you alive for what you did to my wife.”

An odd noise, rumbling and deep, unnatural, disturbing, rose from the wolf’s gullet and brought its teeth to shine in a grin under the flicker of light from the storm. 

He was _laughing_. 

The stranger seethed. Unable to stay his vengeance, he released the bolt and made haste to cock another. Due to his impatience and the sloppiness of his rage, the bolt released was easy to evade and in a quick sprint, the wolf dove after the stranger. Teeth gnashed and gripped against black fabric and flesh, tearing and twisting as shouts of pain and anger erupted through the stranger’s mouth.

As one arm became gnarled and mangled between the teeth of the wolf, the stranger reached down his hand and drew out from his belt the edge of a bowie knife. It glinted beneath light and rain before swinging up and into one of the wolf’s silver eyes. A howl of pain roared from the beast as it released its hold on the stranger and retreated into the night. 

Forward, Arin raced to the stranger’s side. His stomach churned and flipped at the sight of such blood and meat hanging loosely from the stranger’s bones, but he knew he could not leave him like this. 

“The well,” the stranger huffed as he managed to stand, cradling his broken arm. “Get to the well… before he comes back.”

“The well?” Arin echoed as his brow pinched together. “No, we need to get you somewhere safe. Y-your… your fucking _arm_ , man.”

The stranger shook his head. “I’m not going anywhere until that fucking piece of shit is dead. Get to the well, go back to the real world. Whatever you do, don’t stay here. This place… it’s falling apart. It won’t be long now… the demon can’t fight the hellhound and keep up the charade.”

“W-where will you be?” Arin pressed, trying not to stare at the arm the stranger now bound with the fabric of his mask. 

“If I go down, I’m taking one of those assholes with me. Nothing else matters. My little girl and wife are here… somewhere… I’m ready to be with them again.”

Arin heaved his breaths, attempting to calm himself, to steady his heart that raced up into his throat. He felt tears build at the corners of his eyes. Whether it be from fear or sadness, he couldn’t tell. As the stranger lifted up the weight of his crossbow with his good arm and began stalking off into the woods, Arin called out to him. 

“Wait!” he stepped nearer, afraid to be alone, afraid to face the wolf and the woods again. “I-I… never got your name.”

“Brian,” the stranger called as he drew up the crossbow. “Now get the fuck out of here, son. I’ve got some killing to do.” 

With that, the stranger disappeared into the woods.

Arin was alone.

 

***

 

The branches brushed against him, clinging to his clothes, acting like little hands, little claws, that held him back and kept him from escaping. It was dark, much darker than it ever had been, much darker than he had ever seen. Though fear riddled him, consumed him so wholly, Arin needed to remain strong. He felt the memories of this week well in him, slow his limbs and tarry his exodus. He thought of Ross and all his bad jokes. He thought of Jon and how loud he was, but how kind he could be. He thought of Holly and her eccentric hair and even more eccentric hobby of bird-keeping.

Were they really just puppets?

Were the people he so cared about this week, that made him feel alive and happy, were they all just shadows on the wall that he mistook for company? His heart felt heavy. Much heavier than it was when he first arrived here. It felt like the divorce all over again. He felt like he was losing a piece of himself, perhaps he was. 

“ _Arin_.”

He stopped at the call. Following it was the sound of rain patter on leaves and his breaths that became labored and choppy. 

“You can’t hide from me, Arin,” a deep voice rumbled through the darkness. “I don’t want to hurt you. Never wanted to hurt you. He’s making me. We’re so sorry. So, _so_ sorry.” 

Arin ducked down beside the bark of a tree. The cool leaves of a bush brushed against his cheek, wiping at the tears that welled in his eyes and slipped down to mix with the raindrops. 

“There’s still time,” the false warden called. “I’m a man of forgiveness. Come out and we can talk like we used to… be _close_ like we used to. Wouldn’t you like that, Arin? You know, there’s so much that I had planned for us. So many nights that I could be the one to keep you warm, to be your loyal pet. There’s always still time, Arin. Just… come out.” 

Arin’s hand slipped over his mouth to stunt the cry he felt rising in his throat. 

“You and me,” Mark rumbled, just past the tree. “Together. _Forever_.”

Arin closed his eyes and held his breath.

Silence.

He felt every nerve twitch, every vein contract and course as blood pumped through him, wild and fast, fearful. When he heard no sounds, no feet crunching against leaves and limbs, no haunting words or howls riding on the wind, Arin opened his eyes. 

Before he could move, before he even had the thought, he heard a laugh rumble against his neck that was followed by the heat of a breath.

“ _There you are_.”

Arin’s eyes flickered to the side to catch a single, silver eye gaping in the shadows, luminescent, fixated on him. A flash of light, a rumble of life from above, lit the broadening smile that danced beneath the silver eye. With a cry of terror, Arin bound away, but such a move was made in vain. A hand grabbed at him, clutched and pulled him back. Branches caught at his feet, forced him to stumble and fall back upon the tree where he once hid. Before he could lift, arms planted at his sides as a man stood over him, preventing him from leaving. 

Fear speckled through Arin’s dark eyes as he gaped up at the black veins coursing through Mark’s face. He felt the heat from him, radiating down on Arin now like a veil. The distance between them narrowed as Mark drew closer, lowering himself to match gazes with the man who cowered beneath him.

“I’ve watched him for years, you know,” Mark said in a low rumble as he drew his black claws across Arin’s cheek, brushing back weighted strands of hair. “I can make you like us. Just a little pain and then all the power you could ever want. If you say no… well, I’m afraid, you can’t, actually. You rather become like me by choice… or I’ll force you. The only difference is…”

Mark’s claws scratched against Arin’s cheek, splitting skin, causing blood to bubble against the tear. A hiss escaped from Arin’s lips. He tried to draw back, but Mark caught his jaw and held him still.

“… if I _force_ you,” Mark continued, “there might be less of you to survive the process than if you came willingly.”

Arin glared up at Mark, silent. 

“The hard way, hmm?” Mark smiled. “I’ll try to be gentle, but I don’t make any promises.” 

The claw around Arin’s jaw lowered and gripped at his neck. The more it tightened, the broader Mark’s smile became. As the world began to dim and the sound of rain patter became nothing more than a distant muddle of noise, a voice called out through the timber, a voice powerful enough to bring Mark to hesitate and withdraw.

“Officer Fischbach.”

The claw at Arin’s neck released, slowly, as anger flared in Mark’s single, silver eye. As the false warden turned, facing the newcomer, Arin swam back through the darkness to revive to the rumble of thunder and the glow of a lantern held tight in the hand of the new arrival.

“If you want him, you’re going to have to go through me first,” Dan snarled.


	14. The Wolf and the Demon

The golden cast of lantern light carved shadows against the curves and edges of Dan’s skin. He felt the world pull around him, twist and tug like a moth in a web, but he couldn’t focus on that now. His dark eyes cut the tension strung between he and Mark as he knew the game they forever played was now coming to an end. His eyes flickered to Arin, perhaps for the briefest moment, at the sight of blood– of fear– running in streams of teardrops and rainfall down his face. Perhaps he looked too long, or long enough, that Mark noticed his concern. 

With a forceful tug, Mark brought Arin between them. A shield, how cowardly. 

“You are such a disappointment,” the words crept through Dan’s lips in a cold breath. He felt his skin contract, the lantern light failed at the rise of his bitter wrath. “I gave you everything.”

“You gave me _nothing_ ,” Mark boomed back, drawing Arin closer, tightening his hold on him. The wince of pain that brought his eyes to squint did nothing but infuriate Dan more. “How long did you think you could keep playing this game? How long did you think I would be your fucked up experiment? I’m tired of being second best to you.”

“Don’t flatter yourself, sweetheart,” Dan breathed with a soft smile ticking at the corners of his lips. “You’re hardly a rival to me.”

“And yet you’re the one whose still too scared to show his face,” Mark shot back. “What’s wrong, Daniel? Afraid to show Arin what you really are?”

His hold tightened more causing Arin to let out a cry of pain.

“Let him go,” Dan snarled.

The world rumbled and moaned. His concentration was failing, his only concern now was Arin. 

“Show him, Daniel,” Mark demanded. “Show him who really pulls the strings around here.”

“It won’t change anything, Mark,” Dan calmly replied as he made a slow approach. He followed the trace of lunacy sparkling in his pet’s single, silver eye. It was only a matter of time before he went too far over the edge. A mistake, he thought, that must be corrected. “You have no idea who you’re dealing with.”

“On the contrary, I know exactly who I’m dealing with– which is why–” Mark began to withdraw, dragging Arin along with him, “–you’re going to let me go. And you know why?”

Dan remained silent, eyes narrowing to glare.

“Because I know what it’s like being your favorite,” Mark rumbled against Arin’s neck. “There is nothing you wouldn’t do to ensure that you get to keep your pets whole… until the day you can drain them dry of what miserable life they have left.”

“I’ll give you one last chance,” warned Dan in a low tone. “Let him _go_.”

“Make me,” Mark challenged, grin broadening.

A breath slipped in through Dan’s lips, slow and steady, like the bitterness that coursed through him, tainted him, at the sight of mutiny from his creation and the scent of fear permeating the air around Arin like an aura. He was different at the beginning of this week, he knew it. None of the others were treated like this, they were all just games to him. Easy games that he could play and win, but Arin was different. Perhaps he stayed in human form too long, Dan thought, perhaps humanity finally spread into him like an infection that he could no longer stay. What ever the case, what ever the consequence, as Dan saw the gleam of urging lit in Arin’s dark eyes, he knew the facade was over. 

Releasing the breath he held, the mask Dan wore for far too long fell and with conviction, anger, and maybe his own brand of insanity, he answered the challenge.

 

***

 

The change was subtle, nearly as subtle as the gasp that caught in Arin’s throat. Dan’s skin dulled and paled as if death claimed him. Seeping out from the pits of his pupils, a fog of black swirled and enveloped the extent of his eyes, turning them into nothing but unfathomable depths. Stricken by awe, Arin watched as the man he felt he knew, the one that inspired such great emotion in him and reminded him just how wonderful life could be, became something different. His brow pinched together at the sight of the horns spiraling out from the coils of his long, dark hair as something weighed on Arin’s chest.

It was the return of a feeling he thought he escaped. A feeling he had been running from the moment he stepped foot on this mountain and despite his best efforts, it found him yet again.

Arin felt betrayed.

“That’s much better, isn’t it?” asked Mark. “I wonder, how does your new pet feel seeing you for the monster you really are?”

Arin hardly was able to see the reaction on Dan’s face before he bound to action. He was quick, uncannily so, as he darted forward and rose a hand  with jagged, black talons to swipe at Mark. The false warden’s response was just as sudden as he shoved Arin aside and barreled into the attack.

Tumbling down against the damp woodland bed, Arin spun and knocked against fallen branches and limbs before scrambling back to watch the clash of these two nightmarish titans. 

Their bodies collided and twisted as a sweep of fog enveloped them. Out from the dark mists came the monstrous form of the black wolf. Its jaws snapped with snarls as it attempted to drive down piercing fangs to meet the demon’s flesh, but Dan was frighteningly fast to evade. He ducked and wove between paws and teeth, apathy stricken across his face as he combated with the monster he had a hand in creating. Like a snake, circling and staying its distance of its ultimate prey, Dan scaled the trees and led the wolf on a vicious hunt. Beneath the strike of fearsome paws, trees splintered and moaned. Overhead, where chaos wrought the skies, calls of thunder intensified this fight with only the brief flashes of lightning to illuminate their battlefield.

As these nightmares drew back from Arin, he found the strength to stand. The woods were a labyrinth now, as he had lost his sense of direction, but he could not allow himself to stay here and see who the victor might be. Weighted by rain, by exhaustion, and determination, Arin slipped through the underbrush and sprinted onward through the veils of darkness.

 

***

 

As his legs became blurs beneath him, as his chest seized tight with heat and pain at every labored breath, Arin kept his thoughts on all the bright memories he had, to keep hope, to keep believing that he could make it out of this nightmare. He thought of Suzy and the first day they met. He thought of their wedding and how beautiful she was and how lucky he had been to have her for a bride. He thought of Barry and Los Angeles, he thought of his family and Florida, and all the friends he left behind.

Then, he thought of Whisper Hollow.

He thought of Ross and Holly and how welcoming they were to him. He thought of Jon and his taxi, the beautiful waitress, Marzia, and all the people in the town that treated him as if, for maybe once in his life, he belonged. 

Tears burned in his eyes.

It was all just a dream, wasn’t it? A sick and twisted dream. Brian was right. In this moment of clarity, between the clashes of pandemonium and chaos, Arin was allowed to collect his thoughts once left frayed and see them for what they were. 

Lies. All of it was just a lie. 

The smiles and kindness, the hospitality and pampering. A ruse, all of it. And somewhere in the center, just behind the spotlight of the stage, stood Daniel Avidan. There was something about that truth, something about knowing that every smile, every touch, every compliment he had received from Dan was only a means to an end that made his chest feel all the more tighter. 

Tormented by these thoughts and by the exhaustion he brought onto himself, Arin carved his way through the woodland bed, searching desperately for the crumbling stone of an old well. 

When he broke through the trees and came to the vast emptiness of a clearing, he stilled for a moment to let the wind brush against his sweat-ridden face. A revitalizing breath filled him, cleared his thoughts, and kept him focused on the dream of returning home.

The moment of peace, however, was short-lived as from the bowels of the woods came a haunting and deep howl.

Arin spun and gaped at the black veil behind him. 

The hunt was not yet over.

His heart leapt up against his tongue before he tore himself from the horrifying bellow that reverberated through the trees, an omen, a warning, of what wicked would soon come. Through the drying bends of wild grass, Arin sprinted from the beast that now darted out from the tree line in pursuit. Another howl, a dire warning.

Paws pounded against the dusty soil, claws scraped and snarls shot from gleaming teeth. While Arin’s fear made him quick to escape, the wolf was quicker. The distance between them was dwindling. The beast closed in. Hot breaths from a black snout coated in blood rushed out and burned against Arin’s back. Before jaws could snap, before Arin surrendered to the maw of the monster, jutting from the ground before him like an unearthed maggot was the well.

Arin pushed harder. His muscles were aflame. He pushed the limits, all for the hope of survival, of seeing home once again. 

With death behind him and uncertainty before him, Arin bound from the reach of hungry jaws and fell down, down, down into the black abyss of the well’s mouth with a furious howl following in echo against the stone after him. 

 

***

 

Shoulders struck hard against shards of cobblestone and dirt. Skin tore against the merciless assault of the sudden fall with the warmth of blood clinging and sticking to the threads of the dirtied clothes he wore. Arin cried out, cursed each bone that ached and each cut that riddled him. When the dust cleared, and he grew accustomed to the shades around him, he found himself looking up to see the gleam of light peeking out from the top of the well. Though his body ached and he felt weaker now than he had ever been, Arin clawed against the stone around him and ascended. 

Gripping tight to the stone lip, he heaved himself out and onto the barren circle at the well’s base. 

The colors of the sunset washed over the clearing as a soft wind blew across the waving stalks of grass far from the cursed well. There were no more nightmares here, no more darkness, no more wolves.

Collapsing against the ground, Arin remained where he laid until a laugh of disbelief cracked through his teeth and brought tears to fill his eyes. 

So many emotions mixed in him that he had no idea just what to express first. Tears of sadness and happiness, a laugh of triumph that trembled with fear.  
Before he could let himself lay any longer in the insanity that wrought him, Arin remembered…

The cabin.

Barry.

He pushed himself up to his feet and began his trek back toward the Kramer cabin, the real cabin. Barry was waiting for him. There would be a cab, a hot bath, food, and companionship. He would be going home. 

_Home_. 

Arin limped through the tree line, finally discovering the consequence of his endless efforts. He felt cramped in his own skin as his muscles refused to loosen as tension still ran through his nerves. He felt the need to run again, back to safety, but with the faint daylight above him and the quiet sound of crickets chirping around him, Arin knew he was safe. 

His mind wandered until he came to the cabin’s doorsteps. He traced the woodwork door and hesitated before its face. It looked just like the one he had seen so many times in the other world. Could he still be there? 

No, he couldn’t question it anymore. This was real.

Arin cracked open the door and peered inside.

“Barry?” he called before taking the first hesitant step inside the well-lit foyer. “You here, man?” 

There was no response, but that did not steer Arin away. 

As he crept forward, eyeing the extent of the cabin in search for his friend, Arin caught sight of Barry’s phone sitting on the counter top, plugged into the charger. Well, at least he was here, Arin thought as he sat at the counter with relief slumping his shoulders. He rose a hand and rubbed at his face, attempting to dispel the dizziness dancing behind his eyes. 

He wanted to shower, to change clothes, but he needed to find Barry first. He was around here somewhere, he was sure of it, but where?

Before the thought could plague him any longer, he heard a voice call out from beyond the opened cabin door.

“Arin? Is that you?”

Turning his head at the sound, Arin clumsily pushed off the stool and raced for the door. He stumbled and fell against the threshold, but that mattered little to him now as he saw Barry standing at the base of the steps. 

“Barry,” Arin struggled, tears filling his eyes again.

Before any more words could sputter past his lips, he bound down the set of stairs and swept his best friend into a tight embrace. The length of Arin’s hair clung to his cheeks now stained with tears as he nuzzled into the crook of Barry’s shoulder, hardly believing him to be real.

“I-I… didn’t know if I’d ever… see you again,” Arin softly spoke against his friend’s shirt, attempting to hold back his tears.

“Oh, Arin,” breathed Barry before he tightened their embrace, his voice dropping to a deep rumble. “Did you really think I’d let you get away from me?”

Arin hesitated.

Slowly, he retreated, noting first the black hair his cheek brushed against before seeing the light of a single, silver eye. 

All he saw before greeting the swift pain of blackness was the wicked grin spread across Mark’s face.


	15. The End

Arin rose from the waves of darkness as one would from a dream.

Reality was only dizzy gleams to him now that danced before his eyes causing his vision to blur. Ache seized him, numbed his arms and legs, weighed him like a sickness as he slowly came to face just where he lay. The sweat and tears that once stained his cheeks were clumped down with the dust from the creases of cobblestone beneath him. It was cool to his skin, but not kind, as he began to shiver beneath the falling, silver curtains of moonlight. His shoulders shifted first, attempting to dispel the heaviness that clung to him much like the dust on his face. 

When it came time to move his arms, he found himself unable to. Scratching against his wrists, burning raw marks into his skin, was the bind of rope. 

Arin winced against the throb in his head. What happened to him? 

“A-Arin?”

His eyes fluttered, his body fought against the pull of sleep that still gripped him, that attempted to seduce him to descend once more to the darkness. As his dark eyes flickered up to follow the sound of a voice he knew well, he felt his stomach churn. 

Sitting against the stone, bound in the same frayed rope that had been tied to Arin’s wrists, was Barry. 

The dizziness that once plagued Arin did so no more as he felt himself awaken in horror at the blood that clung to the dark wires of Barry’s beard. A bruise, dark and swelling, corrupted his friend’s cheek as against his arms, precise, thick claw marks flayed his skin bringing streams of dark blood to trickle down the indents of his veins. 

“Barry,” Arin breathed as he shifted against the stone. “Barry—it’s going to be okay, I-I’ll get us out of here—”

His gaze was distant; his eyes once full of life now seemed dull and vacant. The color was draining from him, much faster than Arin knew. 

“Did you have sweet dreams?” a voice asked in a deep rumble from the shades. 

Arin’s attention turned just in time to see the approach of dark boots and that single, silver eye gleaming with insanity. 

“Let him go,” Arin demanded in the strongest voice he could conjure though he felt himself retreat at the monster’s approach. “This has nothing to do with him—Mark, please, just let him go.”

His heart pounded against his chest, throbbing louder with every step closer the false warden took. When the silhouette of the man neared and the weight of his shadow shielded Arin from the moonlight, he lowered to kneel. 

“This has everything to do with him,” Mark answered low as he trailed his fingers down Arin’s cheek. “Him and every other person that is your reason for not staying here—for not being with me. Don’t worry, Hanson. I’m a generous man. I don’t intend to kill him, so there’s no reason for him to fear me.” 

Mark rose from his knee and shambled closer to Barry. 

“Mark, please,” Arin begged, pulling at the rope binding his arms. 

“It only hurts for a moment,” Mark breathed as he snatched Barry’s shirt and pulled him up to stand. “A moment of pain for countless lifetimes of pleasure. It’s a fair exchange, don’t you think?” 

“—I will do whatever you want,” Arin sobbed. “Fuck, Mark, _please_. Don’t hurt him. Please, please, please.”

There was no emotion on Barry’s face, no fear or doubt of what would soon occur and that only frightened Arin more. No matter how hard he tried to pull at the rope that dug into his skin, he could not prevent this horrible play from progressing. Mark gave Barry a thoughtful glance, his silver eye flickering back and forth over the many wounds he sustained that removed him of the will to fight anymore. 

Mark shifted his remaining eye to Arin, his countenance just as apathetic. 

“It’s too late for that, Arin.”

With that, Mark turned on Barry and drove into his chest a wicked, black claw. 

 

***

 

The chill of a gasp hung between Arin’s lips. With gaping eyes, he watched as from the dark flow of blood the claw resurfaced, gripping tight to a still beating heart. Reality shifted as the seams between what was and what he feared to be became one. Petrified, in horror and shock, Arin watched as Mark released his hold on Barry and allowed his weight to collapse down onto the stone beneath his feet. Streaming and spreading, the blood from Barry’s chest dripped and wove through the creases of cobblestone like snakes. 

Mark lifted the heart, examined it, admired it. 

“He was a fighter,” the false warden commented with a growing smile. “I didn’t think he had it in him. You should have heard him, Arin. It was like he knew you’d come for him, that you’d save him.”

Silent rage brought Arin’s jaw to clench, his eyes fell blinded by tears. 

“I guess, in the end, you failed him, didn’t you?” he asked as he began to grip the heart tighter. 

Rising from the dark claw that held Barry’s heart, the twisting black tendrils that claimed the monster’s veins emerged and began staining the red color of the heart. 

“What should we have him be?” the false warden asked as he eyed the darkening heart. “A beast like me, perhaps? A butler of sorts? Consider a puppet—won’t you—that could entertain us on a whim.”

Arin’s breaths steadied and deepened. His voice snarled out from between his teeth. “Bring him back or I’ll—”

“—you’ll what?” Mark asked, lowering the heart with a vicious glare. “What could you possibly do— fight me? Won’t that be a sight to see? You know, I rather like it when you’re like this.” He neared, lowered once more before Arin, his single eye unnerving and bright. “Fight me, Arin. Fight me and make it fun. I’ll show you how hungry I can be—how much of an animal I am. Afterwards, I’ll find this Suzy your friend told me of and I’ll let you watch as I make her just as twisted as me.”

“Don’t you fucking touch her,” Arin seethed.

“Think you can stop me?” Mark growled, ever nearing. 

A voice rose within Arin, ensnared by his anger, by his hatred, but the words he held were never spoken as another voice came between he and the monster before him.

“Let me try on his behalf,” said Dan who stood perched high on the ruin’s walls, silhouetted by moonlight. “Or are you too frightened to face one of your own kind?”

“Frightened,” Mark echoed with a laugh. Rising to his feet, he tossed up his gaze to the glaring demon. “Hardly.”

“Pity,” Dan hissed, dark eyes narrowing. “You should be.”

Against the stone below, feet shuffled and shifted. The shadows gave way, allowing figures to stalk forward, their eyes fixated on the veined beast. As Arin turned his attention to these newcomers, he saw familiar faces. 

Holly, Jon, Marzia, even Ross, who was only distinguishable by the pale blue of his eyes, crept forward. Their faces were dark with anger, the anger given to them by the demon.

“Letting your puppets fight your battles?” Mark asked with a sneer. “It’s almost insulting.”

“It’s not the puppets you need to worry about.” 

Jumping down from his perch atop the ruins, Dan joined the ranks of his incensed creations to stand against Mark. Shoulder to shoulder they stood, glaring forward, a wall of opposition ready to combat with the insanity before them. A rumble of a laugh growled in Mark’s throat as he took a step forward, further placing himself between Arin and the only hope he had to survive. 

“This won’t end well for you,” he warned as the tendrils of black coursing in his veins squirmed. 

Dan’s response was silence as there were no longer words to say. 

Moving forward, the final fight began. 

 

***

 

The puppets branched out as their conductor moved forward. 

Once more, the two titans collided, but only briefly as Mark forced Dan away long enough to stop the first puppet that neared Arin. It was Holly that fell first by a strike Arin could hardly see. Dan tried again, forcing Mark to retaliate. With claws corrupted and dark, dripping liquid shadow, he sliced and swiped. As their battle continued across the stone of the crumbling ruins, Arin struggled with the rope binding his wrists. His teeth gritted through the pain as all he could do now, all he could focus on, was freeing himself from these restraints. 

Next came Jon. As Mark turned to intercept him, disembowelment with a jagged claw, the same fate that Holly met, Dan wrapped his long arms around Mark and held him back.

Jon lowered quick to Arin’s side, tugging at the knotted rope.

“Get the _fuck_ off,” Mark snarled before tossing Dan over his shoulder. Free of restraint, he darted forward and barreled into Jon. 

Arin shuffled back, scarcely avoiding the collision. Further and further away, he shifted, tugging still on the rope. It was looser now, less constricting. 

Once Dan made it back to his feet, he chased after Mark, removing him from atop Jon before another one of his puppets could be lost to the false warden’s fury. Chaos fell across the ruins. The longer the battle was waged, the more destruction came to further the damage of this stone carcass left rotting in a wasteland. 

Enraptured by the movements of Mark and Dan, Arin was unaware that another puppet had come to his aid and removed him of his bindings. When his hands fell free from one another, Arin’s eyes flickered up to see the bloodied face of Ross. His stomach churned at the strong, metallic smell of blood, but the comfort of seeing such pale blue eyes stunted the sickness brewing in him. Just before Ross could help him to his feet, his attention turned elsewhere as another puppet came to play. This was no creation of Dan’s, but one of Mark’s design.

Rising from the stone from a halo of a pool of blood, Barry stood. His skin was pale like snow and just as lifeless. The bright color of his eyes was misplaced as the same black corruption that claimed the demons’ eyes festered in his.

“Barry,” Arin called with a voice weak and strained. 

Ross abandoned Arin’s side, standing before him on guard. 

“Get out of here, Arin,” Ross sputtered through a broken and bloodied jaw.

Arin searched the puppet’s eyes, those pale blue eyes that belonged to a memory of an eccentric man, a childish man, whose company he had learned to enjoy. These twisted and wicked creations, scarcely human, were more to him than what they were. Familiarity was a curse, compassion his undoing, as Arin found himself hesitant to escape even when nothing tangible remained to hold him back. He shifted his dark gaze across Ross’s face, searching for a sign of humanity that may be left.

“Promise me,” Arin demanded in a soft breath. “Promise me you won’t hurt him.”

Barry shambled forward, feet heavy, gaze distant.

“Promise,” Ross echoed.

Arin gave a nod, accepting the promise, believing that he meant it. Though ache gripped at his muscles and he hardly had the strength to stand, Arin forced himself off the stone and stared at Barry.

“I’ll figure a way to fix this, Barry. Just hold on.” 

Suddenly, the world shuddered and gave a moan, causing dust to weep from the cracks of cobblestone. Arin was not entirely sure what this instability meant for this world, but with anxiety wringing his heart in callous hands, he knew he needed to find the well soon. As Ross became entangled in a defensive fight with Barry, Jon rushed up to Arin and grabbed his hand, leading him to the exit of this stone labyrinth.

Before they could make it down the cracking stones of a winding stairwell, Arin heard a howl split the air, wrathful and cold, causing sweat to build against his skin now prickled with chills. 

The wolf was back.

At the haunting sound reverberating across the stone to lash Arin and Jon with a vengeful force, they pushed on faster. The fear that stained Arin’s face to pale had found its way into Jon as his dark eyes gaped. The corridors were narrow and dark, suffocating and stale with the stench of disuse. The air was thick, weighted. When at last they surfaced from the inner halls, Arin saw the towering archway of the ruin’s only escape. Before they came to the threshold where the iron work of a gate hung above the bridge, rusted, another howl tore through the veils of silence, only it was much nearer. 

Jon turned back, facing the sound. He gave Arin a glance, a heavy and apologetic stare, before he grabbed his arms and shoved him across the threshold. Turning back, Jon grabbed at a lever at the gate’s side and gave it a tug. Chains rattled free years of rust and lowered quick the heavy, metal gate. Through the bars, Jon watched Arin who was now kept from the wrath of the wolf, his face sorrowing and regretful.

He drew in a broken breath and whispered through the wires of his lips. 

“I’m sorry.”

The cool, midnight breeze caught Arin’s hair, shifting the pale highlight to brush his cheek. Through the shadows of the ruins, descending to the courtyard where Jon stood, the black wolf approached.

“I’ll miss you, Jon,” Arin breathed, backing away from the gate, unable to watch what would soon transpire. 

Jon gave a nod, his smile faint. 

Given a moment to escape the wolf, Arin disappeared into the shadows of the wasteland.

 

***

 

Arin did not make it far into the wasteland before his body caved. Riddled still by the exertion of his previous efforts, he found himself unable to push further. His chest was burning with every breath, his muscles sore, his mind frayed. He needed to rest, but knew that doing so would be his ultimate surrender. The night was dark and veiled the tree line that lingered on the horizon. He could not do this alone, not anymore. 

The thought of the puppets only gave him so much comfort. The thought of saving Barry could only fuel him so far.

For a moment, he hesitated, lost in the center of the wasteland. 

Just then, a howl. 

The chase, it seemed, would never end. 

Hobbling forward with heavy legs, he continued. If it was not his survival that he wished to fight for, it would be Barry’s. He had to be brave, relentless, even in the face of fear. He had to. It was the only way to escape this nightmare.  At how adamant the wolf was on claiming him, Arin knew he must be close to the only way home. Determination lowered his brow to fall just above his dark eyes filled with bitter anger. He couldn’t let Mark win the game, no matter what. 

He carved through the tree line, no longer allowing the howls that carried on the wind to sway him. With measured steps, deliberate and firm, he continued through the darkness that could no longer frighten him. Though these nightmares surrounded him, thick and unending, he would be brave.   
When his feet met the openness of a clearing, the hope that was vacant from Arin’s face returned. At the sight of the well, distant and dark in the shadows of the night, he wandered aimless no more. 

Just as he came near enough to see the cracks and moss of aged stone, he heard the trample of heavy paws and turned to face the monster that ever followed. 

Lingering at the tree line, panting misted breath and glaring with the brilliance of a silver eye, was the wolf. 

“I’ll never give you what you want, Mark,” Arin called, his voice stronger now than it had been before. “I’m not a toy for you to play with, I’m not a game that can be won. You could break me like Barry, you could change me, but you’ll never own me.”

The silver eye narrowed on him as a growl rumbled low in the wolf’s throat. 

“So fucking try your best,” Arin challenged. “I’m not afraid of you anymore.”

The beast huffed a breath, a laugh, before bounding forward, swiftly closing the distance between predator and prey. Arin stood on firm ground, holding his glare, unwilling to retreat, not yet. When the dusty soil beneath his feet trembled at the arrival of such wickedness, when the air grew tense, strained, by the combating anger between them, the tides turned. It was no effort Arin made, no design he conjured from the air that could so swiftly incapacitate the feral beast before him, but an act made by the precise and skilled aim of a dark crossbow. 

A bolt hissed past Arin’s cheek, slicing through air and tension on its way to lodge in the remaining eye of the wolf. 

It howled in pain, ending its pursuit in a furious thrash as it fought against the jagged pierce of blade embedded in his eye. At the bellow of such pain, Arin turned, slow and surprised, to see Brian’s crossbow aimed just over his shoulder. The man’s piercing, blue gaze fixated on the beast as from his lips growled these words. 

“Get to the well.”

He would not fight with him, he would not beg for him to follow, as Arin saw the ultimate decision gleaming in Brian’s eyes under the last moonlight he would see of the Other World. This would be their final goodbye, he knew it well, and with a voice, low and grateful, he whispered, “Thank you. For everything.”

Brian nodded, breaking his stare with the wolf for only a moment to answer. “So long, Hanson. You’re a bigger pain in the ass than I ever thought you could be.”

He laughed. Weak and sad, but a laugh nonetheless. 

Abandoning the hunter one last time to the fury of the wolf, Arin made his way to the well and slipped into its darkness. 

 

***

 

The descent was long, longer than he imagined. Echoing behind him between the creases of stone he heard the struggle of a fight and the snarls of a beast. The crossbow hissed, spat its vengeance to riddle bone and fur until a final snap of jaws brought silence to the Other World. 

Arin turned his head away. 

Clawing against the same stone that whispered the fate of the masked hunter, Arin crawled out of the well and met the light of the dying day. Golden shards of sunlight illuminated the falling leaves of the tree line. Though such peace lingered at the edge of the clearing, a sweep of fog claimed the area around the well, masking the earth and all its barren misery. Arin proceeded forward in heavy thought. The frayed ends of this nightmare were coming to their end. 

There was only one thing left that he needed to accomplish. 

Before he could make his way further through the rolls of fog, he heard claws scrape against stone and felt the heat of panted breaths. 

He turned with disbelief gaping his eyes as from the pit of the well, Mark crawled. 

Streams of black blood oozed down from his wounded eyes, staining the corners of his lips now lowered in a sneer. After everything, after all the fights, how was he still moving? Arin retreated, hesitant, fearful to make noise. 

“I’m getting tired of playing these games, Arin,” Mark snarled as he slipped out from the well with the broken shafts of bolts jutting from his body, blinded by pain and blood. 

The breath held on his lips, he retreated further.

The sneer on Mark’s face wiped into a smile as he rumbled a deep laugh. “I don’t need to see you to have you. I can hear you. Every breath, every heartbeat.” His head shifted, his ear turned to listen. “Be a good boy, Arin, and come here. My patience with you is running thin.”

A crackle of grass beneath his feet, a crunch of soil, brought him to gasp as Mark’s head jerked to a side, the pits where his eyes once were focused on him as his jagged grin broadened. 

“There you are.”

The black veined beast bound from the well and sprinted forward, catching Arin off guard. Their bodies collided and tumbled through the fog until Mark straddled him, forcing him down. Arin fought against him, but to no avail. The sweat built on his cheeks, cooled only by the kiss of fog that ran like a halo around them. 

“A moment of pain,” Mark reminded him in a whisper as he drew up a dark claw. “Then, together forever.”

A movement, swift. A direct and cruel blow brought black claws to tear through skin and meat and bone. A splatter of blood, a set of gaping eyes, as the final fight found its end here on the barren ground near the well. There was hesitation, a loss of words, as Arin stared up at Mark and watched as his smile slowly fell. The blood that dripped from the open wound was not warm crimson, but black.

Standing behind Mark, with his talons jammed through the false warden’s back, Dan stood. 

“I’m so sorry,” he spoke softly.

With a relentless grip and a jerk, Dan tore out the black heart from his creation. The black tendrils coursing through Mark’s veins withdrew and wept from his chest wound in a stream of dark blood. As the life left him and he relinquished his hold on the man beneath him, Arin withdrew. Scrambling backwards, Arin slipped out from under the dead monster. 

Lifting up the black heart to look upon, a sorrowing weight hung from the demon’s lips before he turned his attention to Arin. 

A warning built behind Arin’s lips, forming on the edge of his tongue, ready to escape, but he found himself unable to speak. His dark brown eyes shifted across Dan’s face, searching for a threat that was not there. 

The demon’s throat contracted, forcing down a swallow of thought, of words, that built behind his black painted lips. He considered the silence a moment longer before at last speaking.

“Your friend still lives.” 

“Barry?” Arin asked in a soft breath.

“His body remains in my world, unharmed. I can restore him to the life he had, clear him of all memory of what he underwent, what he experienced.” 

Weakly lifting to his feet, Arin stood before the demon.

“There’s a price, isn’t there?” he asked, eyeing the man he thought he once knew.

Dan gave a solemn nod. 

A breath filled Arin’s chest as his eyes flickered down to the black heart clutched in the demon’s hand. Returning his attention back to the frown Dan held, he asked, “You want my heart, don’t you?”

There was a pause before an answer was given. In this hesitant silence, Dan moved forward, his thoughts mysteries that Arin did not know. 

“If you were to ask me that a week ago, I would have said yes without a second thought. It is so surprising how fast matters can change. You know what I am, you know what I need to stay this way, but that’s not what I want from you.” Dan hesitated again, searching for the words through the misting fog. “The only bargain I want to make with you is to have the chance to be human for a moment longer.”

Arin was silent, waiting. 

Dan closed the distance between them. “I wish I could have you forever. Part of me wants to, but… I can’t. I know that now. Maybe in another world, at another time, we could be given the chance to be something, but I can’t ask you to abandon your life, your dreams, for me.” He let off a chiming laugh, though the corners of his mouth still hung in a frown. “All this time, I tried to take your heart. I never thought, in the end, that you would have stolen mine.” 

Arin’s lips parted, an intake of breath, to hold the moment, to capture it in memory. 

“Give me one last moment of yours to have,” Dan requested. “Give me a moment of you that I could have to remember and I shall save your friend.” 

Swallowing down the dry patch in his mouth, the nervousness that fluttered up to constrict his throat, Arin agreed to the terms with a silent nod. 

Accepting his agreement, Dan stepped forward, stealing the warmth that radiated from Arin’s face, and in exchange, he left behind a piece of himself. Talons once cruel, once wicked, were gentle now as they caressed the reddened skin of Arin’s cheeks, cupped them, as from his lips he stole a kiss.

Arin breathed deep at the softness of Dan’s mouth, at the kindness of his hands, as his eyes fluttered closed. Together, they melted, lingering, fearful to part, as this was their goodbye, Arin knew it well. 

Their lips parted, but not their embrace. The cool skin of Dan’s thumb brushed against Arin’s cheek, lovingly, fondly, before he whispered against his mouth, “Goodbye, Arin Hanson. I wish you all the happiness in the world.”

When Arin’s eyes opened, to steal one final glance at the demon whose embrace he did not want to leave, Dan was gone. 

 

***

 

Arin remained in the silence of the fog, alone. 

Dizzied gleams of distant thoughts ensnared him, bringing him nothing but emptiness as he stood waiting, for something, for nothing. There was no trace left in the fog of the Other World. No false warden laying in death, no howls or moonlight, no ruins or owls, no puppets, no demon. The only reminder that this week even occurred was the crumbling stone of the well. 

As Arin stood lost to his thoughts, suspended somewhere between the veils of heartbreak and loss, a voice called out to him.

“Hello? Arin, is that you?”

He turned at the sound, catching a figure walking through the fog. The loneliness that swam between his ears was misplaced as from the fog came a familiar face. 

“Barry,” Arin breathed, closing the distance between them. 

Before another word could be ushered from trembling lips, Arin brought Barry into a tight embrace, relishing the feeling of his heart throbbing against his chest. 

“What the crap is going on?” Barry asked. “I was… in the cabin and… next thing I knew, I was out here.”

“I don’t know,” Arin said with a laugh, tightening his hug until Barry let off a grunt of pain. “It doesn’t matter, dude. I’m glad to see you.”

“Likewise,” Barry wheezed. “Can we… get out of this fog? This whole place gives me the spoops. It’s nothing like I remembered it being when I was a kid. You didn’t tell me that the town at the base of the mountain is gone.”

“Gone?” 

“Yeah, the taxi man was telling me that it kinda just died out years ago. Lots of disappearances and stuff. What on earth have you been doing for food?” 

“It doesn’t matter, Barry. Don’t worry about it,” Arin said, smiling.

“Whatever you say, boss,” Barry said with a sigh. “C’mon, let’s get out of here.”

Arin took a step forward before finding himself weighted, held back. His lips rolled together, his eyes flickered back across the fog before he said, “You go ahead, man. I’ll… catch up.”

Barry gave him a wary glance before pinching his shoulders together in a shrug. 

As Arin was returned once more to a state of loneliness, he crept closer to the lip of the old well and glanced down into its darkness. It was hollow and deep, but he knew better. 

“Thank you,” he breathed to the one he knew listened, “for bringing him back.” 

Just before Arin withdrew, a gleam of light caught his eye, beckoning his attention down to the collar of his shirt. Beneath its weight, warm and fluttering, a red light pulsed. With careful hands, he drew up the necklace he had received early this week, mistaken to be his. His eyes traced the ruby gem that glowed with heat to the beat of a heart. A soft smile pulled at Arin’s lips as he held the gem in his hand, admiring its color. 

It was funny, he thought, as he tucked the gem back beneath his collar to hang just above his chest. Despite all that had happened, Arin found what he was looking for out on the mountain. He looked for bravery to face the unknown, he looked for a way to value life as he once did. Today he would leave the mountain and be ready to face the world and whatever it had to offer. 

Turning back to the fog and beginning for the tree line, Arin thought of another funny idea. 

In the end, Dan got what he wanted. 

He may have stolen the demon’s heart first, but he never expected for Dan to steal his, too. 

With a final breath of mountain air, Arin left the clearing. 

He was going home. 

 

 

_The End_


End file.
